The Serpent's Song
by Sabari
Summary: It was an accident. It had to have been. But it was a mistake which could change his life forever. Bumblebee knew he would never be the same again. Now on his own, he begins to wonder. Was it really an accident? Or something far worse? What secrets lie in the dark? What demons stalk the night? Probably AU. Non-slash/non-pairing.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1 – Waking the Devil**

"_And the hound he met that came from Hell. Bloody he was on his breast before. At the father of magic he howled from afar."  
__-_**_Baldrs draumar_**

* * *

Pressure exerted in the right places can break down barriers in minutes, seconds if necessary. But one must be careful in its application, for too much can end only in complete subject annihilation. Bend, break, but do not destroy the pieces. Something must remain. Something of the subject must still exist...

* * *

_2011, Earth_

It didn't happen on a dark night. There was no storm, no black clouds hung low in the sky. There was no rain, and little wind. It wasn't broad daylight, the sun was sinking in the west, but it was bright enough to read. Or for Rafael to read anyway.

He was sitting on Bumblebee's hood, doing his homework. They'd driven out beyond town and the base, as they often did. Bumblebee behaved as though he would drive forever if that's what Raf wanted. Sometimes Raf did his homework while Bee drove, sometimes they would stop.

On this particular afternoon, they'd found a little oasis. It was a hill beside the road among the canyons, just tall enough to offer up a fantastic view of the distant town nestled between the rimrocks. From this distance, it was easy to forget about the mean people who lived there, and the people who just didn't hear you even when you shouted.

Raf lived with his large family, and his voice often went unheard. Amidst all those people, every one of them just trying to get through the day and life itself, Raf felt very small and very alone. They were his relatives, but they didn't know him, and shared few of his interests. And not one of them had commented on how often Raf was away from home these days. It usually felt like they didn't care, but the real reason no one asked about it was that no one had noticed. That hurt just as bad.

Small and insignificant, Raf felt utterly alone in the world. Or he had. Until the day he'd met Bumblebee, whose words he mysteriously understood. In some ways, Bumblebee was very different from his fellow Autobots. He and Raf had a certain amount of common ground. Even among family (for the Autobots were every bit as close as family should be), sometimes they got left out.

Bee didn't let it get to him though. Raf admired many things about the Autobot.

He was brave to the point of being reckless, but he wasn't arrogant or vain. He was really gentle and actually seemed to be insecure about himself, as much as Raf often was. Raf couldn't imagine what Bee had to be insecure about. Raf was convinced that Bee was the fastest Autobot, the fiercest fighter and certainly the best friend. He listened when Raf talked, not just staying quiet out of politeness, but really listening to what Raf had to say, and responding intelligently, not just with some offhand remark like so many people did.

Most people didn't really listen to you. They caught a word here and there, thought they caught the gist of what you were saying and then remarked on it as though they had a clue.

But Bee was also good at just sitting. There weren't many people Raf could sit in companionable silence with. Not many people could just silently appreciate the view on this grassy hill, the shade beneath the lone tree they'd parked near. Bee could. He didn't have to say anything. And neither did Raf.

The first time they'd gone for a drive like this, Raf had been afraid Bee would get bored, or only be willing to do it once. But Bumblebee didn't appear to mind. In fact, sometimes he seemed genuinely curious about Raf's homework, baffled and surprised by human history, science, economics, whatever really. It was actually easier to learn knowing that Bee would have questions. It gave Raf an extra incentive to pay attention in school. Not that he'd ever had trouble with that.

It was better to do homework out here. Away from the noise of his family, and also away from Jack and Miko. It wasn't that he didn't like hanging out with them, he did. It was just that Miko could be so distracting and Jack, while well-meaning, could sometimes be patronizing rather than helpful.

Raf learned better when left alone, allowed to go at his own pace and figure things out in his own way. Bumblebee either understood or merely accepted. Either way, he never protested against a long drive.

Right now, Bee seemed to be dozing. It seemed to Raf that the Autobot enjoyed the warm sunlight as much as he himself did. It wouldn't be long before it started getting cold even during the day. The sun would seem paler and weaker, and sometimes it would be hidden behind clouds. There might even be snow. There would probably be snow. But not for a little while yet, unless winter came early this year.

Right now, Raf was determined to enjoy the sun while it lasted. To that end he hopped off the car hood and walked around a little. They'd been here for almost an hour, ever since school let out. Raf was actually pretty much finished with homework, but he didn't really want to leave just yet.

It was so peaceful out here, so isolated. He felt safe, and nowhere near as small as he usually seemed to be. With just him and Bumblebee out here, it seemed like they had the world to themselves.

Then he spotted the car. The bright green Urbana Viper roared up the road, kicking up clouds of dust, its black trim so polished that it gleamed. It was a sleeker design than Bumblebee, built for speed more than power, though Raf knew the vehicle had plenty of both. The hood wasn't smooth, it looked like a ribcage, the hood scoop was designed so that it almost resembled a devil's horns.

It was a beautiful machine. Raf stepped back from the road to make sure the speeding vehicle wouldn't hit him as it swept up the road at speeds far beyond what the speed limit would be if there was a sign out here. Raf didn't remember any sign. Maybe there'd been one once and it had been torn out or knocked down, then covered by the desert.

In any case, he couldn't imagine the point of owning such a car as the Viper if not to test its limits. It was a car built for speed, designed to appeal to those who craved it.

Raf didn't see the danger at first. The car accelerated at a phenomenal rate, until it was fairly skimming along the road, almost flying. It swept past Bee, who was still parked beneath the tree. And then its side view mirror on the driver's side twitched and the car angled towards the edge of the road. Towards Raf.

Bumblebee's engine roared to life as the green Viper drove onto the verge, its tires wallowing in the dirt for a moment. Of all the things it was, the Urbana Viper was _not_ an off-road vehicle. Bumblebee's headlights flashed and he launched forward, his charge fueled by either fury or purest fear.

There was no hesitation on the part of the Autobot. The muscle car shot forward and slammed its front bumper into the detailed side of the Viper. Bee did not slow down on hitting the other vehicle. Even as his tires dug into the grass and dirt, he still managed to gain speed.

The snarl of his living engine was deafening. Raf was buffeted by wind and grit spat up by the cars just a few feet away. The Viper was thrown off its course and Bee drove it with sheer force away from Raf, back towards the road. But whoever was driving the Viper either wasn't caught off guard or was quick to recover.

As soon as the rear tires hit pavement, he shifted into reverse and tore his car away from his adversary at the cost of a little paint and some minor dents. It suddenly dawned on Raf that there wasn't a human driver at the wheel at all. The car was almost intact in spite of the crushing blow which had struck it. It had to be a Cybertronian. A Decepticon. Who else would come after Raf like that?

Bumblebee had obviously had the same thought, for the grinding sound of transformation began about as soon as the Viper pulled away from him. The Decepticon did not give him time to transform. As soon as it had cleared the black and yellow car, it angled its front wheels slightly and launched forward.

The Viper's front bumper was lower than Bee's. It slammed into his right front fender, its bumper sliding beneath Bee's with a horrid screech of tortured metal. Bee's left tires dug into the dirt, his right ones were on the road. This contributed to the Viper's obvious intent. It was going to flip him.

Bee switched tactics, throwing himself into reverse, trying to tear free of the Viper. But the green Decepticon was too swift for him. Bee's left wheels stayed stuck in the dirt as the right front one was torn from it, and the unfortunate Autobot began to turn over. With a squealing of gears, Bee fought to right himself, and made as if to transform.

But the Viper knew what it was doing. It shifted, and partially launched into the air. Its front smashed into Bee's undercarriage, and its tires cut across as the Autobot landed upside down and it vaulted over him, hitting the ground with a crash and tearing up the earth with a flash of treads.

The Autobot tried in vain to alter its condition, but the Viper's attack had done its foul work. The damage to the underside of the Autobot was extensive, though in no way lethal. The precise location of the impact caused the various parts to be crushed together, effectively trapping Bee in vehicle form.

Like a turtle on its back, the Autobot was trapped. He flapped his doors and there was a terrible screeching noise which Raf realized was Bumblebee cursing. Raf had never heard him speak like that. He realized why as the Viper turned towards him a second time, gunning its engine eagerly.

_{Run!}_ Bumblebee cried, when Raf stood gaping in horror at the green death bearing down on him.

Raf forced his legs to move. There was nowhere to go, the only shelter he might reach was the tree on the hill. And that was a pitifully small defense against a raging Decepticon. But it was all he had.

Raf ran around behind the overturned Autobot, making for the tree as fast as he could, painfully aware that the Decepticon had only to transform and reach out with one hand, snatching him up in its massive claws, crush the life from him. There was nothing Bee could do.

But then the Viper made a fatal error. It slammed into the back of the Autobot, shoving the other vehicle out of its path as it launched towards Raf like a hungry wolf towards easy prey. But its actions half-flipped the Autobot, who was then able to roll upright.

The Viper bore down on Raf, who darted behind the tree. It was pitiful cover. It wouldn't save him and he knew it. But Bumblebee, back in the game, was furious. He was severely disadvantaged, and knew the battle must be ended quickly and decisively.

With a snarl of his engine that echoed through the canyons, Bumblebee threw himself at the rear right side of the Viper. He smashed into it with enough force to make the rear tires leave the ground for a moment, preventing the Viper from making forward progress. On reflex, the Viper turned its front wheels, trying to swing around and face its attacker.

Bumblebee shoved hard, and the Viper edged toward the opposite side of the hill from the road. The tires dug deep into the hard Earth and the wheels squealed as the Viper tried to reverse. Raf knew all it had to do was realize it could switch to front-wheel drive and then it would be over. But it didn't.

Bee backed off for a split second and the rear tires of the Viper slammed into the ground. It shot forward, having been struggling to move while the tires were airborne. That carried it closer to the edge, even as it turned sharply away. Bumblebee hit it hard in the side, and the Viper went over the edge. It flipped onto its roof, then flipped again, rolling down the hill.

Crashing, screeching, tearing metal made Raf cover his ears even as he ran to see the result of what Bumblebee had done. The Viper continued downhill for what seemed like an eternity, being battered into an ever flatter shape. And then, quite suddenly, the driver's door popped open and something fell out. It looked like a rag doll the way it flopped bonelessly downhill alongside the vehicle.

When Raf recognized what it was, he felt sick. He turned away and threw up in the grass. Bumblebee let out an agonized wail as he realized what he'd just done.

The rag doll was actually a body. A human body, bloodied and battered almost beyond recognition. Bumblebee had just killed someone.

* * *

**_A/N: _**  
**_As usual, I'm going to say this story is probably AU, though not especially intentionally so. _****_As always, this story is completely written. As per usual, I will upload one chapter per day (Barring anything out of the ordinary. I will attempt to give readers a head's up via A/N). This was written for my entertainment, and is being published for yours. If you find yourself not enjoying it, then you should feel perfectly free to stop reading. Heap praise or criticism upon it, whichever may suit you best. Or say nothing about it at all, if you would prefer. Do feel free to point out typos, I check my stories before publishing, but I admit my imperfection and would welcome the opportunity to correct any mistakes I may have made._**

**_It may or may not be worth noting that I hadn't watched _**_Transformers__: Prime_**_ in nearly a year at the time this story was written, and still have not seen any part of the new series. It may also be worth contemplating that I didn't like the original ending for this story, but attempts to rework it failed. I was sick for close to a month, so there's about a thirty day hiatus between the writing of part 2 and part 3 (the story originally ended in part 2), so any unevenness can be blamed on that. That's no excuse, merely something akin to a warning._**

**_The original concept was horror, but it quickly became apparent that it was more of a thriller. I'm a little unclear myself on what the final genre heading should be._**


	2. Chapter 2

It was impossible. It couldn't be. And yet it was.

Raf had fallen to his knees, was shivering uncontrollably, facing away from the hillside. It was one thing for a Decepticon to try and kill him, quite another for a human- _any_ human –to want him dead. Someone, some _human_ person, had just tried to kill him. He couldn't imagine why, he couldn't even absorb the fact of it. That hadn't been a Decepticon, or any twisted person from MECH. It had been just some guy (Was it a man? Raf didn't dare look to find out), someone he didn't even know (Did he know them? He couldn't bring himself to look), had wanted to kill him. Wanted to kill him so badly that they were willing to risk their lives to accomplish it.

Raf felt like he was going to be sick again. His head spun, he was dizzy even though he hadn't moved for what had to be fifteen minutes. Vaguely, distantly, he became aware of a buzzing noise. It was irritating, and he realized it had been going on since before he threw up.

It was Bumblebee. As soon as he realized that, Raf's head snapped up and he looked over at the Autobot, who hadn't moved since pushing the Viper off the hilltop.

He was making an infernal buzzing noise, but it wasn't words, just gibberish as best Raf could tell. He seemed to have been rooted to the spot, staring down at what he'd done either in horror or disbelief (probably both). Raf hadn't known a car could shudder, but Bumblebee did. Violent tremors shook the yellow car from bumper to bumper, so powerful Raf could actually hear gears groaning in protest. It looked like Bee was on the verge of literally shaking himself to pieces.

It was a long drawn out moment before Raf put things together and realized why Bumblebee wasn't taking this in stride. Though gentle and good natured, Bumblebee was a soldier. He'd killed Decepticons, done it without apparent remorse or hesitation. He'd been intending to kill a Decepticon just minutes ago. But that wasn't a Decepticon down there.

Autobots were sworn to never harm humans, and actually to protect them. Autobots were willing to die if they had to in order to protect humanity. And that included the worst humanity had to offer. The Autobots were reluctantly willing to let humans fight each other, but they themselves would have nothing to do with injuring or even terrorizing any human.

If there was any unforgivable act an Autobot could commit, it was the killing of a human being. It was a sin above all others, and Raf could guess that 'it was an accident' was no excuse. Bumblebee was expected to have made completely certain that no humans would be harmed.

Autobots even risked capture by Decepticons, risked being killed by them, just to protect humanity. There was no defense against murder of humans. Raf knew it because Bumblebee had explained it to him. If there was even the slightest chance that car wasn't a Decepticon, it was Bumblebee's duty to assume that it wasn't, and seek to protect any humans which were inside, even if they meant him harm.

But it hadn't been him the driver was after. It had been Raf. Bumblebee hadn't had a choice. Had he? Raf knew that he had. Bumblebee could have picked up Raf and run. But he hadn't. He'd assumed it was a Decepticon after them, and that Decepticon could transform and fire on them, killing them both.

He'd done exactly what he had to in order to protect Raf, but only if that car had been a Decepticon. But Raf knew that 'I thought it was' wasn't going to fly with Optimus Prime. Thinking wasn't good enough when it came to things like this. You had to _know_.

Raf didn't feel well. He wasn't sure his voice wouldn't shake. But he had to get Bee's attention. The miserable, incoherent burring noise was like a ringing cell phone set to vibrate, only louder. Raf had never once heard Bumblebee- or indeed _any_ Cybertronian –make that sound.

Shakily, Raf got to his feet. He walked, or rather staggered, over to Bumblebee. He reached out with a trembling hand and rested his palm upon the battered left front fender of the yellow muscle car.

"Bee? Bee, you okay?"

The noise stopped, but the Autobot continued to shake. Raf could feel the convulsive shudders beneath his hand, each one of them was like a knife in his heart. He was scared for Bee. He was afraid of what Bumblebee was thinking, and scared of what the other Autobots would do to Bee when they found out what he'd done. And that wasn't all.

Even though there was no reason, Raf felt scared of Bumblebee. He cursed his fear, knowing there was no reason for it, knowing Bee would never hurt him, had just minutes before been willing to die to protect him, but he couldn't make the knot in his stomach uncoil. It wasn't just the Autobot that was shaking. It was all Raf could do not to snatch his hand away, all he could do not to cry.

Fear, horror, revulsion, all mingled together in a jumble he couldn't sort out. He couldn't even figure out which feelings were aimed where for sure. And yet, somehow, he seemed in better shape than Bumblebee.

"Talk to me," Raf said, aware of the tremor in his voice, aware of the tears welling up, threatening to spill over, aware that he was about to sob aloud, "_Please_, Bumblebee."

_{I... I... I killed..} _his voice, more vibrato than usual, for a moment descended into the indecipherable, then Bee recovered enough to be understood and went on haltingly, _{I didn't... mean to. I didn't know... I should have been more careful... should have known. I should have known...}_

The words seemed to evaporate, but the vibrato continued like the tortured wailing of a cello forced to continue long after all other instruments had faded.

"Pull yourself together," Raf said, but tears were running down his cheeks and his voice shook weakly.

He hated himself for it, but he couldn't manage to sound strong. Bee was the strong one. Nothing shook him. He rolled with the punches of life, never breaking under pressure, surviving everything, his altered voice a testament to that unalterable fact. He was strong in mind and spark. But now he was broken.

All the strength in the universe would not help him. It wouldn't change what happened.

"We have to get out of here," Raf said, "Before someone comes."

Bumblebee was silent, but Raf could feel him staring. Raf didn't have to clarify; Bumblebee knew what he was suggesting. Run. Hide. Hide from the consequences of this fatal error in judgment. Flee from the wrath of Optimus Prime, which was certain to descend upon Bumblebee like a lightning bolt.

For Optimus was fair and wise, understanding and tolerant, but this was a crime he could not forgive or allow to go unpunished. Raf wasn't sure what would happen to Bumblebee, but it wasn't going to be good. He didn't know if Autobots would kill one of their own. But, if they did for any reason, this would undoubtedly be that reason. At the very least, Bee would be cast out.

He'd go on the run, as Starscream had run from Megatron. He would be forced to scrounge around on his own, surviving only by way of stealing energon from under the noses of the Autobots or the Decepticons. Starving. Hated. Feared. And maybe even hunted.

If he ran before that happened, things would be better. He could hide, and settle amidst humanity instead of on the outer fringes of society where the living was harsh even for a Cybertronian. It would be best if the Autobots found out what had happened long after they were gone.

They'd drive. Just keep on driving, maybe forever. Raf wasn't going to abandon Bee, even if everyone else did. He only wanted his friend to be safe. To be _alive_.

_{No,} _Bumblebee said in a voice which sounded of defeat, _{I will not run. I can't. The others must know. They have a right to know what I've done. I deserve to be punished.}_

Raf knew Bee did not say 'killed' for his sake. He didn't want Raf to know, but Raf heard it in his voice. That bleak tone was reserved for one who knew they were going to die, who had resigned themselves to that fact and become deadly calm because of it. If Optimus didn't do it, then one of the others would. And if they didn't, Bumblebee would fall on his own sword, so to speak.

"Bee, it wasn't your fault-" Raf began, but Bumblebee interrupted him, possibly for the first time ever.

_{I should have known!} _He reversed suddenly so that Raf almost fell down as the fender leaped away from his hand suddenly, _{I should have known! I should have made sure, but I didn't! I was my fault for not knowing, for not making sure. It is my fault that man is dead! Understand this: I murdered someone, a human. I can _never_ be forgiven. Not now, not ever. But I will _not_ run.}_

"Then what will you do?" Raf asked, resisting the urge to approach Bee a second time.

Bumblebee had backed out of reach and then stopped. The message, unspoken though it was, was perfectly clear: Don't touch me. Don't look at me. Don't even speak to me.

_{I'm going to call Optimus. I'm going to tell him where I am. I'm going to wait for him to come here. But first, I'm going to have Bulkhead pick you up, take you home.}_

"Why can't you do that? Why can't you go tell Optimus what happened?"

Bumblebee did not answer, instead using his radio to contact Bulkhead. He turned away from Raf, drove to the edge of the hill and then parked there, right at the very edge. Raf understood. Bumblebee wouldn't allow Raf to touch him again.

He had committed a cardinal sin. He was dirty, irredeemable. At least, that's what he believed. Bumblebee didn't even trust himself not to hurt Raf, even to take him home. Bumblebee was afraid of himself, scared to death that this would happen again. He did not intend to move, to even do anything until Optimus could arrive and deal with him in whatever way Prime saw fit.

Bumblebee did not want Raf here for that, but he did not want to abandon Raf. To let him go home alone was to put his life at risk. So Bumblebee was going to have another Autobot take Raf away. He didn't want his friend to witness his shame and possible execution.

Raf tried to swallow a lump in his throat. Only he couldn't. It was lodged there, so thick he could hardly breathe. Tears still ran down his hot cheeks, and he couldn't see through his glasses. He hugged himself and walked to the tree. He sat with his back to the trunk, drew up his knees and wept.

"You saved my life," Raf cried, angrily wiping at his eyes, "You saved _me_!"

_{That} _said Bumblebee quietly, _{does not matter now.}_

"But he was going to kill me!" Raf protested, anger burning in hot denial of fear, "That's got to count for something!"

_{It does not,} _Bumblebee said, and refused to speak again.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the call Optimus had dreaded from the moment the Autobots set foot on Earth. The Autobots were so big, their battles with the Decepticons so violent, that it had at first seemed inevitable. Over time, that particular fear had been somewhat allayed. As the Autobots adjusted to their new home, it became less likely that they would make a mistake of this magnitude. Yet the fear was never entirely gone. Cybertronians were so incredibly powerful. They were trained to fight, to survive. They were soldiers, and that meant they were trained to kill, swiftly and efficiently.

They were like tanks in a shopping center. By the Allspark, some of them _were_ tanks.

Bumblebee did not explain what had happened over the radio. He gave his location and asked Optimus to come. But the tone of his voice told all. A cold feeling slithered around his spark. Not Raf. No. Surely Bumblebee hadn't killed Raf. That wasn't possible.

Oh, but it was. Optimus had only to close his eyes to perfectly envision Bumblebee reversing suddenly, striking against Raf, knocking the boy down, the black tires rolling over the fragile human's skull with a wet crunching sound- _No!_ He didn't know anything yet. He couldn't think that way. Not until he knew for sure.

He was going to go alone, hoping against hope that this was some kind of mistake, a misunderstanding on his part, praying that Bumblebee had another reason for being cryptic, for dragging him out into the middle of nowhere. Maybe the Decepticons had tapped into their radio transmissions. Maybe Bumblebee had found out. Maybe. Optimus knew that wasn't the case. He wasn't fooling himself.

The drive seemed to be never-ending, but Optimus reached the location at last. He spotted Bumblebee from a distance. Bumblebee was in vehicle mode for some reason, and parked beneath a lone tree on the top of a hill. He didn't move or in any way acknowledge Optimus' approach, though he surely could see Optimus from a mile away or more.

Optimus slowed on his approach. Something about Bumblebee's stillness set him on edge. It made him uneasy, and his unease made him cautious. He felt suddenly threatened, but wasn't sure why.

Bumblebee did not react to his slowing down, did not even seem to be aware of him.

Optimus realized that he was regarding Bumblebee as he would a Decepticon, keeping his distance and eying the Scout warily. He couldn't believe it was so easy to see a friend as though they were a stranger, but he couldn't help it. All of the Autobots knew his feelings about humanity, and how humans should be treated. They knew that to harm one was an inexcusable offense.

_You don't know that's what happened,_ Optimus told himself, but it was a lie and he knew it.

However, he determined that he couldn't just keep creeping forward. He knew Bumblebee. He knew the Autobot must be distraught, too consumed by guilt to even acknowledge his leader's presence. There was nothing Optimus could say or do that would make Bumblebee feel worse than he must already. Optimus was still having trouble believing what he knew to be true.

He might expect Bulkhead to accidentally hurt someone. Bulkhead was so large that he seemed clumsy. Ratchet was cantankerous and had made it no secret that he held humanity in low regard, though Optimus knew that the aging medic would lay down his life for a human if that was required, just as all of them would. But Bumblebee... he was neither accident prone nor disdainful of creatures made of flesh. And, while he had a temper around others of his own kind, Bumblebee was gifted with infinite patience where humans were concerned.

It had to have been an accident. It must have. But out here, in the middle of nowhere? What had he been doing out here anyway?

Optimus was looking for signs, scanning the ground for blood or a body, but he wasn't finding anything. If Bumblebee had injured someone, it must not have been here. But he didn't look like he'd moved since whatever happened... happened.

Optimus forced himself to accelerate, approaching as normally as he could, trying to shake off his feelings of doubt. This was Bumblebee for goodness sake! The Autobot who had sacrificed his voice (and very nearly his life) in service to the Autobot cause. Optimus couldn't believe how easily that had been thrust to the back of his mind. Actually, it was his misfortune that he could.

It was the only way for him to face the reality of what was happening. If Bumblebee was indeed a killer, there was nothing in his past which could excuse it. Even if it had been a mistake, something would have to be done. Action was called for.

However, Optimus meant to reserve judgment until he saw how bad the damage was. He needed to know what had happened, and why it had happened. Only then could he see his way clear to making a decision about Bumblebee's future, either with or without the Autobots.

_{Over there}_ Bumblebee's fractured voice was a mere hollow echo of itself, barely audible as Optimus drew even with the motionless Scout.

Bumblebee twitched a side view mirror at the opposite side of the hill from where Optimus had come. Optimus paused, wondering why Bumblebee had not transformed. He took in the battered condition of the Autobot, great gashes ran down the sides of the car, the front fenders were mangled, much of the yellow paint had been scraped from those places. A bright blue droplet suspended by the thinnest thread from the bottom of the driver's side door said that more than frame damage had been inflicted.

Whatever had happened, it was no accident. There had been a fierce battle.

Optimus took in the deep furrows in the ground. Wheel treads. Some were Bumblebee's, but there was another set of treads Optimus couldn't recognize. He decided to ask for details after looking over the edge at whatever Bumblebee meant for him to see.

He found himself struck by reluctance that was not characteristic. He didn't want to see. He didn't want to know. He didn't want this to be happening. It was not common for him to resist the truth. Optimus had learned long ago that hesitation to recognize reality for what it was had a terrible cost. He had to know. And he had to accept it once he knew. And he had to act.

He drove to the edge of the hill, looked down without transforming. At the bottom of the hill was a battered green car, smoke coming from it, winding its way towards the sky. The vehicle was upside down, crushed almost beyond recognition. A few feet away from the vehicle was a body.

Even from a distance, Optimus could see that the body was torn, broken and bloodied. And also quite dead. The head was snapped back against the spine at an unnatural angle, the eyes were wide and staring sightlessly upwards. The body was on its side, limbs splayed about like so many paint splatters.

Optimus felt the cold knot in his spark turn heated as he realized what he was looking at. Bumblebee had, for some unfathomable reason, forced this vehicle and its driver off the road. He turned around so he could study the tracks again, to be sure of what he was looking at. He wanted to be damned sure.

He asked but one question of Bumblebee, his voice low because he could barely speak through the anger which flooded through him in a crippling tidal wave. A human life had been lost because of one of his own, which was as bad as Optimus having committed the act himself. Humanity had suffered because of the Autobots. Not even because of their war. Simply because of their presence.

"Did you do this?" Optimus growled, feeling himself beginning to tremble.

He had not felt such rage in a long, long time. It had no target. He did not believe Bumblebee had purposely killed someone, but the evidence showed that he had. Perhaps Bumblebee had mistaken the vehicle for a Decepticon, though no Decepticon matched its description. But it didn't really matter. Bumblebee had killed someone. He knew better. He knew to be careful.

Bumblebee did not answer at first. Not until Optimus turned towards him, demanded an answer a second time, in a voice which had more command and less disbelief in it. And possibly more anger as well, for Optimus was having trouble keeping it contained.

He had no way of knowing that this was the same anger which had propelled Bumblebee towards the car in the first place. Fear for the safety of a human, turned to smoldering fury at the one putting them in danger. He didn't know, and might not have cared if he had.

"Did you do this!?" he thundered.

Bumblebee didn't even flinch, but instead replied dully, _{I did.}_

He said nothing else. He did not attempt to explain or excuse his actions. He knew as well as Optimus that there was no excuse. There was no explanation which would make this okay. Optimus didn't even want to hear it. It would only make things that much more difficult.

"Go," Optimus said, his voice flat, "Go, and keep going. Do not return."

_{Yes sir.}_

Those two words were twin knives in Optimus' spark. With just those words and nothing else, Bumblebee had conveyed the depth of his sorrow, his guilt, his fear, and even a twinge of disappointment. It was as though he'd been hoping Optimus would end his miserable existence. But he resigned himself to his orders as placidly as always. It never had mattered what Optimus asked of him. Bumblebee would do anything Optimus told him, even should it cost him his life.

It felt like that should have changed the instant Bumblebee had committed the atrocity of killing a human. But it didn't. Bumblebee was exactly as he'd been before, only now he was condemned to a life of solitude, permitted neither the companionship of other Autobots nor to participate in the war.

For that, Optimus was sorry. He believed it had been an accident, or else he would have killed Bumblebee himself. But Bumblebee could no longer be trusted. For most mistakes, atonement could be made, forgiveness could be granted, a lesson learned. But not for this. Not this of all things.

Bumblebee hitched and lurched his way onto the road, and then began to drive. It was unclear whether it was the physical or the psychological injuries which impeded him, but he'd never driven so slowly. He did not stop, did not look back, not even a glance with a mirror. He just crept down the road slowly but steadily, disappearing forever from the life he'd known.

It was unlikely that he would live to the end of the war out on his own on Earth, especially as he would seek to avoid Autobots, Decepticons and humanity. Even if he did survive, he would never again see Cybertron.

_The horrors of war know no bounds,_ Optimus thought dismally, _And those who suffer most are often the least deserving of sorrow._

Optimus looked again at the tire treads in the dirt, wondering how it could have come to this. Trying to understand what had happened. It was meaningless now. Judgment had been carried out. It had been swift, and there had been no argument. But was it right?

Of course it was right. It was the only way to make sure it never happened again. And it must never, ever happen again. Not this way or any other way.

But still, he wondered...

* * *

"Let me get this straight: One of yours killed one of ours and... you_ let him go_!?" Optimus had called Agent Fowler, turning the matter over to human hands with no small measure of reluctance.

He knew that his involvement ended with Bumblebee's dismissal. He could not examine the body effectively, nor was he qualified to move it or see to the remains. It was Fowler's show now, he would handle it in whatever way he saw fit. The way he saw fit was to come to the base and yell.

"I understand your anger, Agent Fowler," Optimus said with slow deliberation, "But I do not believe Bumblebee intended for this to happen."

"Oh, so it's accidental manslaughter then. That makes it okay!" Fowler snapped angrily.

"No, it does not," Optimus replied impassively, "Mistake though it was, Bumblebee did kill a human. He has been punished accordingly."

"You mean turned loose so he can do it again," Fowler fumed, crossing his arms.

"Banished from the company of his fellow Autobots, Bumblebee has also been banished from this war. He will now seek solitude. It is the only course left open to him."

"Unless he joins the Decepticons," Fowler said.

"Bumblebee is an Autobot. He would never intentionally bring harm to any human. I pray that he will find peace away from the violence of this seemingly endless war."

"That's it? Say a prayer and the problem goes away?"

"You do not understand," Optimus said slowly, "Bumblebee does. If we ever catch sight of him near a battlefield, if we spot him at all, his life must and shall be ended. But I do not believe he is a threat to you, us, or anyone else. He will not attack the Decepticons, nor will he join forces with them. With no cause to attack, he will never assault a human in error. Never again."

"So you say," Fowler said, "But is it possible that you're biased because he is one of your own?"

"He is no longer under my command," Optimus said flatly, "I take no responsibility for what may happen to him from now on."

"That's good to hear," Fowler informed him, "Because my superiors are sending every man they can spare into the field to look for a car matching your bot's description. They will shoot on sight. Not with bullets. With missiles. The threat to humanity cannot be overestimated if your Scout decides to throw a temper tantrum and go on a rampage."

"Agent Fowler-" Optimus had barely spoken the name when Fowler interrupted.

"_No_, Prime. You had your chance to deal with this killer. Now it's our turn. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. You better hope to God that he goes quietly."

Fowler turned and left, Optimus stared after him. The door slammed and the sound of footsteps receded. Fowler was going back up to the roof from which he had come. He was on his way to coordinate a search for the most dangerous prey humanity had ever known.

"No," Optimus sighed, "That is your prayer. It is mine that I am correct, and that Bumblebee's spark is still that of an Autobot. For if not, he will kill you. You... and all of your men."


	4. Chapter 4

Bumblebee did not stop. He did not turn. He struck out along I-80 for no other reason than because he could, taking note of the speed limit and then sticking to it, going not even a mile over or under, holding rigidly to the center of his lane, broken white stripes flashing past on his left, the solid line of white paint which signified the edge of the road rolling endlessly on his right.

To the right lay a vast expanse of emptiness, uniform barbed wire fences the only signs of civilization in view. The flat, arid landscape seemed to go on forever, and the fences themselves seemed out of place, somehow lost in a great deserted wilderness, products of a bygone era.

From time to time, cars would flash by him, the long, empty, straight and flat road making them bold and even reckless. Each time a sedan or pickup rushed past him, Bumblebee flinched inwardly, cringing and waiting for the inevitable shriek of metal tearing into metal, the harsh jolt of the other vehicle slamming into him, trying to force a response.

But the cars went on, unmindful of him, as though he wasn't even there.

To the left, a wide strip of scrub grass separated him from traffic going in the opposite direction. Hearing the low rumble of huge semi trucks, Bumblebee time and again imagined that Optimus had changed his mind for some reason, and was coming to end things properly. Each time, nothing more menacing than a white semi appeared, roaring down the road like an ancient beast, survivor of some primordial time when machines ruled the Earth. Or was that birds?

Bumblebee didn't know human history very well.

Telephone lines stood out in the landscape, which was virtually without trees. They looked like the teeth of some massive leviathan, razor sharp and uniformly stretching towards the wide open sky. Up ahead, distant mountains looked like something unreal, something out of a dream, blue and misty. Or maybe that was all in Bumblebee's head.

From time to time, he saw sprawling towns, white buildings crisp and clearly defined as something separate from the land, the mark of humanity pitifully small in the grand scheme of things. Even on their own planet, they seemed remarkably few, outnumbered by everything else the world had to offer, yet thinking they were the most significant, believing they owned everything, had conquered the wilderness, had even destroyed it. Yet there were places, places such as this one, which were desolate, almost empty of humanity, where they were like ghosts in a fog. There for a split second, but distant, wavering and without solidarity or form.

Bumblebee did not turn off the interstate, did not head towards those towns. He wanted nothing to do with human areas. He did not want to even see human beings. He felt that he couldn't bear it. Not knowing how easy it would be to kill them, not knowing what that felt like. Not when he knew that he was a danger to them, that he deserved to be lonely as a result of his crime.

Drive. Keep driving. Don't stop. Just keep on going.

He was still leaking energon, but it was a slow leak, just a drop at a time, leaving an intermittent trail behind which would be easy for any Cybertronian to follow if they so wished. He almost hoped they would, or that he would happen upon a pitched battle, giving his former comrades excuse to end him.

He drove without direction or purpose, following the road only because he had no excuse not to. Driving towards the mountains, or perhaps only a mirage. The mountains seemed never to get any closer, no matter how long he drove.

Night fell. The sky became indigo, marked with a million points of tiny light. Stars. Cybertron somewhere among them, beyond view, endless time and space between here and there. Home was so far behind him, and so changed by war that it was unrecognizable, a lifeless husk in the coldness of space. He knew it was unlikely that he would ever see it again.

That had been a bearable reality before. He was fighting for his comrades, and for Earth. The cost of never seeing his home again was one he accepted each and every day. But the war was no longer his. He was no longer an Autobot, no longer even a Cybertronian. He was nothing and no one, drifting like dust upon an unwelcoming world which was alien to him, which could never become his home.

It was strange how fast things could change.

Just this morning, he had been entrusted with the safety of Raf, his loyalty and skill unquestioned, his assignment meted out without hesitation or reservation. In the space of a second, he had lost the trust it had taken more than one human lifetime to build. And with it, his faith in himself.

He could feel that he was marked, it was a stain upon his spark which was felt rather than seen. He was a marked killer, who could be neither trusted nor accepted among the Autobot ranks.

A single mistake cost him his home, his family, and what little was left of his friends. He deserved worse. But he was not one who could take his own life. It was not in his nature to do so. But he might find a dark corner in which to hide himself, and there remain until he simply withered away.

He didn't know what he was going to do. Until he did, he would just keep driving. Just go and keep right on going. Keep going until he couldn't do that anymore. And then stop, stop and perhaps never move again, waiting for the rust to set in and slowly eat away at him until he was no more.

There would be no forgiveness for what he'd done, and he wouldn't have tried to earn it even if he could have. He could not forgive himself. He would not ask anyone to do what he could not do himself.

The events played over and over again in his mind. He had been so sure, so _sure,_ that the Viper was a Decepticon who was unknown to him. He was almost positive he had run a scan of it to make doubly sure. He was certain there had been no one inside the vehicle. But obviously there had been. He had made a mistake, but when? Had he only thought he'd checked? Were his scanners malfunctioning, having been damaged in the struggle? Or had he not even cared, and only now told himself he'd checked because it made him feel better?

Worse, had he known, somewhere inside? Had he known the driver of the vehicle was human, and run it down anyway? Would he have done such a thing, even for Raf? If he had, he did not remember. His mind had effectively blocked and garbled the memory of the incident, preventing him from clearly recalling what had actually transpired.

The not knowing was the worst thing. He didn't want to believe he was capable of intentionally bringing harm to a human being. But he knew better. Autobot, Decepticon, everything in between, all were choices. He had it within him to be a killer, just as Megatronus (later Megatron) had eons ago. Power corrupts, he knew this. And Cybertronians had absolute power when it came to humanity. There was nothing mere humans could do to stand in their way. Nothing whatsoever.

The potential for murder was within him. But had he acted on it? Had he really known there was someone inside the vehicle when he attacked it? He didn't know for sure.

He didn't like to think so. He did not want to be a monster, to become the next Megatron. But maybe he did. Somewhere deep inside, the idea of having absolute power appealed to him, just as it did to everyone. He knew it. He felt the desire to need never fear the wrath of anyone or anything, the lust for creation, destruction, control. It was there, lurking just beneath the surface.

But had he set the monster free? That he didn't know.

His headlights illuminated the black path ahead, empty and endless, unchanging and without purpose. The darkness had closed in on all sides, he only knew of other vehicles because of the rumble of their engines and the flash of their headlights, then the reflection of their red tail lights against the asphalt.

All too clearly, he saw in his mind's eye the broken form of the human he'd slain, the shattered body laid out upon the slanted landscape, the red fluid of human lifeblood spattered over the rocks, the extent of the damage so extreme that it was obvious the man had expired before hitting the bottom.

He remembered the sharp, clear feeling of triumph. Had that faded when he saw the corpse tumbling down the hill, when he realized he'd killed a human? Or only when he absorbed the implications of that action and realized the consequences? He wasn't sure.

The miles rolled away beneath his tires, distance doing nothing to lessen the agony of memory. He knew there was nowhere he could run, nowhere he could hide from the shame. His life signs could be read all the way back at base, no matter where he went. The Autobots could find him wherever he went, could hunt him down if they wanted. But he didn't care. They could find him if they wanted. They could kill him if they liked. They had the right and, all things considered, he did not want to fight them.

_Let them come. Great Cybertron, let Optimus change his mind and hunt me down._

But he wasn't really sure he wanted that. He knew the pain he'd brought to his kin, and knew the suffering it would bring if any one of them had to end his life. He did not want them wounded, not on his account. He knew that the wisest course would be to end it himself, so that they would never have to make that choice. End it now, before he sank further into the darkness inside himself.

But he couldn't. Or wouldn't.

He was willing to die for the cause he believed in, and the people whom he loved. But he was unwilling to strike the killing blow himself. That was the easy way out, the coward's way. No, he must live out his sentence. That was the final order of Optimus Prime. Even if he could have brought himself to commit suicide, Bumblebee would not disobey the command of his leader. Not even now, in exile.

More than once when he saw the splash of bright headlights coming up from behind, Bumblebee had the feeling that the green Viper was back there, that it had somehow rolled itself over, climbed the hill and come lurching after him, a horrifically sentient thing from out of the grave, seeking vengeance for the master which he had killed.

That was impossible, of course. The cars of Earth were not living things. They had no spark. And yet, he checked his mirrors each and every time, expecting to see the battered vehicle, its mangled framework hitching and jerking behind him, broken beyond repair and yet absurdly alive, following him, seeking to drag him down to the pits of Hell.

Hell was an Earth concept, though there was were parallels between it and many aspects of Cybertronian lore. In any case, there was no equivalent for the hounds of Hell, creatures risen from the darkness to hunt down and slay those who were damned.

The Viper wasn't there.

And yet, a creeping sense of horror swept over Bumblebee as the night drew on and grew steadily colder. The feeling of being followed not by a living enemy, but by a specter belonging in the afterlife. He felt it on the cold breath of the wind, heard it rushing up behind him, imagined the claws of the instrument of Death raking across him, tearing him asunder.

It was the fear, however unfounded, that kept him driving, prevented him from stopping, even as his energon, the lifeblood of all Cybertronians, continued to drain from him drop by lethal drop.

* * *

The light of dawn brought an end to Bumblebee's traveling. He was exhausted, and it would be dangerous for him to keep going. Spotting one of those truck stops in the middle of nowhere, he turned off and came to a halt near a line of big rigs whose drivers would soon be awakening and preparing to continue the long journey between one place and another which is the lot of the trucker.

For now, the hulking behemoths stood like silent sentinels. Bumblebee approached with reluctance, his imagination giving life to those hulks, malevolent and spiteful life. They seemed to be glaring at him, then collectively turning their eyes away, his guilt was surely as obvious as the damage to his fender. He drove among them cautiously, and parked at the edge of the rest stop, far off the road and behind the trucks, where he would be out of sight until they left.

He didn't want anyone to see him.

He lost awareness almost at once, his energy depleted. The energon had stopped leaking sometime in the night, but he would need more or he would not survive to the end of the week. Drained as he was, he wouldn't get very far. It would be a miracle if he didn't die. Or a curse, depending on how you looked at it.

His last thought was for Raf, and for the Autobots. He hoped they would be alright.

He knew he had no right to think of them, nor the privilege of praying for their continued welfare. But he couldn't help it. Even though he knew the reason he was out here, knew he could not go back and that his punishment was a just one, he felt like a traitor. He felt like he had abandoned his friends, as surely as though he had actually deserted instead of having been cast out.

_Please, if there is a master of the Universe, please hear me. Please do not make them suffer for my mistakes. Please do not let them die for my transgression. Punish me, bring death and pain to my door, but not to theirs. Please, don't let my absence be the cause of their demise._

Prayer didn't make him feel any better. He knew there could be no bargain made with any deity. He could not offer his life in place of another's in this way. Only by being there could he protect and defend the people who mattered to him. There was no plea or promise which he could make which would change things. He knew that, but there was nothing else he could do.

_If there is any justice in this world, then I should be the one to die._

If there was any justice in the universe, he would have been the one to die, not the human. He should have known. He had acted without thinking, without knowing. He had only thought to protect Raf. Would it have mattered if he'd known the car was just that, and that a human was attempting to run down his friend? Probably not. He would have done just what he did, surely. Surely he could not have forced himself to turn tail and run from anyone who would choose to harm Raf.

But who was he to play God? One human life for another was not his decision to make. Autobots stayed out of human affairs. Did that mean he should have stood by and watched while Raf was killed right before him? He who was Raf's guardian? He couldn't have done that. In a choice between Raf and a stranger, he would choose Raf every time. He had to.

_I suppose it doesn't matter then. Whether I knew it or not, I would have done the same thing. And that makes me a killer of men. Optimus, why didn't you kill me before I could hurt anyone else? You know I'm capable. You know I will. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. You know what I've done, and what I will do. Why did you let me go? What possessed you to do such a thing?_


	5. Chapter 5

The low purring of a high powered car engine stirred Bumblebee from his haze. The truck stop was empty now, he was the only vehicle left. The sound was one he knew, but it took him a moment to identify it. Looking towards the road, Bumblebee spotted the other vehicle.

The Urbana Viper seemed to float above the road, its polished fenders gleaming in the sunlight, its shadow sharp and dark on the blacktop. The green paint was vibrant, the car looked fresh off the assembly line. But it was the same car. Bumblebee didn't know how he knew, but he did. It was the exact same car he'd smashed to pieces and shoved down a hill the day before.

Yet here it was, large as life, rolling down the road, daring him to come after it, to try and finish what he'd started. He could see plainly that there was no driver behind the wheel, the side windows were rolled down so that their dark tint would not disguise that fact.

Bumblebee sat motionless, watching the ghost car as it swept by at 75mph, there and gone in a whoosh of exhaust-tainted wind. Its red taillights glowed bloody red as it went by, and it soon disappeared in a cloud of dust. Bumblebee did not follow it.

He knew it was not real, but a hallucination brought on by shock and energon loss. It wasn't there, couldn't be there, not after he'd torn it to pieces. It had been utterly demolished. And yet there it was.

_Impossible._

But it was there.

_Not real._

Then what was it doing?

_A figment of a distraught imagination._

Looked solid though.

_It couldn't be._

It came back to haunt him.

_That's ridiculous._

To kill him, or make him do it himself.

_No._

He must atone for what he'd done.

_Stop it!_

He realized he was moaning, a low insectile buzz. He shifted gears, started to follow the other car, stopped before he'd gone six inches, resisted the impulse to move. He was going to stay right here. Not move. Not do anything. Just stay put.

Convulsive shudders had gripped him, just as they had the day before when he saw the mangled body of a man on the downward slope of the hill. He could not stop trembling. Worse, he couldn't keep the pitiful infant animal noises from escaping him. Embarrassing mewling forced its way out of his choked voice box, painful squeaks came out sounding like the coughing of an engine.

He didn't move. Couldn't. Was rooted to the spot. Too sick to move.

His mind blanked out...

...The next time he became aware of his surroundings, the Viper was directly in front of him. He didn't know how it had gotten there, but its hood seemed to be grinning devilishly at him. He stared at it without comprehension, expecting it to lunge for him suddenly, then disappear in a puff of smoke like the apparition that it was.

The Viper's engine purred, its hood grinned with impossible life. It was not a Decepticon. Just an ordinary Earth car. It could not smile. It was not alive. It was not even really there at all. But no matter what Bumblebee told himself, the damned thing was still there.

_{Go away!}_ he shouted, unable to take it anymore, shocked to hear the tremor in his voice.

The engine purred louder, menacing, spiteful. The car didn't leave. Didn't vanish. Sat there, headlights on even in the middle of the day, blinding bright in Bumblebee's vision.

_{Leave me alone!}_

_Shouldn't yell at it. It's not real. It can't hear you._

But he couldn't stop himself. It certainly seemed real enough, even though it did not respond to him, even though it was physically impossible that the vehicle was here, intact or otherwise.

_{Why can't you leave me alone?}_ he sounded weak, and hated himself for it, but couldn't help it.

The thing did not respond. It either did not hear him or did not care to acknowledge him. With a loud revving of the powerful engine within, the Viper lunged forward, mimicking the deadly strike of the creature after which it had been named.

Bumblebee suddenly found his ability to move had not been impaired anywhere but in his own mind. He lurched backward instinctively, turning his steering wheel sharply, turning away from his assailant, leaping backward, out of range, defending his existence by instinct more than desire.

Tires clawing for purchase on the graveled rest stop parking lot, Bumblebee felt terror get its cold grip into him, digging at his insides, sending rippling shudders through him from one end to the other. He was in conflict with himself. He did not want to live, but neither did he want to die.

And he especially did not want to be confronted with this ghoul from the realm of nightmares.

The Viper screeched, which was neither a mechanical nor an organic sound, a scream belonging to another world. It charged as Bumblebee swung a hundred and sixty degrees, curving out of its path, swinging to face the same direction as the ghost vehicle, then flying into reverse.

The roar of the Viper's engine was deafening beside him, the dust and grit striking against the metal skin of his door and fender were real, bouncing off him with a high-pitched pinging noise.

Bumblebee spun around and shifted gears again, launching himself towards the road. But, when he looked back, the other vehicle was gone. Whirling, he doubled back.

There was a low building in the rest stop, a bathroom for the human drivers. Bumblebee drove off the pavement and into the dirt and sand, swung recklessly around the side of the building. But there was no car there. No tire tracks, no nothing. It had simply vanished into thin air.

Like a ghost.

_Not possible._

Something which was real yet intangible.

_No, there must be a rational explanation._

A demon from beyond the grave, come to drag him to Hell.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

He whirled, tires digging into the dirt, throwing dust and grit up into his undercarriage, spitting rocks at him as he attempted to gain enough traction. Then suddenly he'd launched forward, back onto the paved rest stop area, then up onto the Interstate, his spark pounding in his ears, energon throbbing through him painfully. He couldn't stay there any longer. He just couldn't. He had to keep going.

It was irrational, _he_ was irrational.

You couldn't run from ghosts, nor from your own mind. He knew that as well as the next bot. Better even. He had experienced being possessed by an insane mind. He knew what it was to be haunted by something you could neither touch nor explain to anyone.

Was that what was happening? Was he somehow possessed? Was he seeing things that weren't there because a secondary persona wanted him to? But this didn't feel like that. His head didn't feel crowded, he didn't feel his thoughts and will being suppressed.

He hadn't been driving more than fifteen minutes when the Viper returned with a vengeance. It was on the road behind him, just barely in view. Its hood shone like a mirror in the sunlight. It was coming after him, its front bumper producing the illusion of an insanely grinning mouth, the headlights glowing eyes, the hood scoop a viciously scowling brow.

Bumblebee focused on the road ahead for a minute. When he looked back, the Viper was still there, and getting closer, bearing down on him as though it intended to ram him.

_That has got to be a real car._

But that wasn't possible.

_It's still there._

No, it was never there. It didn't exist.

_Still there._

Nonsense. Just ignore it and it would go away.

_Still there._

Stop thinking about it and it won't be.

_The damned thing is __**still**__ there!_

Bumblebee realized he was speeding. He'd surpassed seventy-five, was creeping upwards of ninety. He tried to slow down, couldn't. Fear had a hold on him, he was trying to outrun the imaginary vehicle behind him. Were it real, it could have outrun him.

The Urbana Viper was a faster vehicle than the Urbana 500. In a race of speed, the Viper would win. As for endurance, the 500 had the advantage because its engine was designed not to overheat, making it heavier and therefore slower, but also more powerful.

But this was not a real vehicle. It was something out of Bumblebee's head, probably a hallucination brought on by energon loss. He couldn't outrun a demon of his own making. Not unless he unmade it. He had to focus, to make it disappear. It had to go away.

He had to slow down.

But he couldn't. He couldn't force himself to slow, and instead rocketed onwards, heading for a hundred miles an hour, his engine beginning to groan under the unwonted strain. With his energon nearly depleted, Bumblebee knew he was nearing a fatal velocity. He had to stop. Couldn't.

He looked back, using a side mirror. The Viper was still there, still gaining. He could hear it snarling behind him, daring him to stop, to turn and face it. To stop running.

Suddenly, he remembered what he'd told Raf. That memory alone was enough to snap him out of it. Screeching brakes, burning rubber, a hail of dust showering into the air and onto his hood.

_{I will not run!}_

He eased off the road, onto the shoulder. Bumblebee had no intention of colliding with the vehicle if it turned out that he was mistaken and this was just another Viper, with an innocent motorist behind the wheel. It wasn't.

The Viper stopped in the road, its unnatural grin seeming wider than ever. It faced him, angling towards the shoulder yet still in the right hand lane of the empty Interstate road. No more than ten yards separated Bumblebee from the green Viper with the black trim.

The Viper's engine hummed, a monotonous sound in the still air. No vehicles approached from either direction, the roads were eerily deserted. A preternatural stillness hung in the air.

Bumblebee stared at the Viper. If this was a figment of his imagination, it was a damned detailed one. Every line of the vehicle was sharp and clearly contrasted against the blacktop, the sun reflected off the painted steel, the car's engine made a less than constant noise, it sounded like something _alive_.

But if it was indeed something out of his mind, why did he see it in pristine condition? Why not the battered husk he'd been imagining was pursuing him the night before? Why? _Why_?

Terrified, Bumblebee began to tremble again. His resolve was crumbling. The courage and confidence which had been his when he was an Autobot Scout had all but deserted him. He had nothing to defend, nothing to fight for, nothing to live for. All of those things should have made him fearless, reckless even. But the effect was the opposite. He was literally paralyzed by fear.

But, even if he wasn't, he would not run. Not anymore. He was through running.

_{I... will not...run}_ he forced the words out, which seemed to take an unusual amount of effort; it actually hurt to say those words.

The Viper's engine roared and it sort of hopped forward, then slammed on the brakes, evoking a squealing from them, leaving a deep black mark upon the pavement. The vehicle's body bobbled on its shock absorbers. Bumblebee did not flinch at the false charge.

But he also did not go on the offensive. He had nothing to protect. And he could not, would not, make the same mistake twice. He would not kill again.

_May it cost me my life, I will not fight back._

The Viper mock-charged a second time, this time coming significantly closer. Now only a yard separated them. Bumblebee could see the exhaust forming a sickly cloud behind the Viper, could see himself reflected on its shining hood.

_I will not run._ But he couldn't say it this time, could only think it.

_{It's about time...}_

Bumblebee froze at the sound of the voice. Like his own, damaged, his unique war scar, but not his own. The words were spoken in basic speech, just as Bumblebee spoke. But the voice issued from the Viper.

_{Who are you?}_ Bumblebee asked when he found his voice.

_{You should know,}_ was the reply, the voice eerily similar to his own, impossibly the same, yet entirely different.

_{Why should I know?}_

_{Because you created me. You brought me here.}_

Bumblebee realized he'd asked the wrong question at the start.

_{_What_ are you?}_

_{I? I am you. Your own personal demon, the devil in the darkness of your mind.}_


	6. Chapter 6

"Gone? What do you mean he's gone? When is he coming back?" Raf demanded.

Ratchet had picked him up from school, refused to tell him anything. Now he addressed Optimus, the usual awe which accompanied an audience with the Autobot leader completely absent. He had room only for fear, the same twisting feeling in his gut that had been there since yesterday. He could still hear the heart rending wail Bumblebee had let loose on discovery of the truth.

His sleep had been haunted by nightmares, he had felt that something even worse had happened. Worse than the horrifying accident, the worse than the worst thing he could imagine.

"Bumblebee will not be returning," Optimus said in a voice devoid of emotion.

"What? Why not!?" Raf refused to cry again, but his eyes stung with tears.

"Rafael, you must understand. What Bumblebee did was-"

"He saved my life!" Raf interrupted fiercely, "Nothing else should matter. Someone was going to kill me and he stopped them! What did you _do_ to him!?"

Optimus said nothing. Instead he turned away. Fury welled up inside Raf. It wasn't fair! Bumblebee shouldn't be punished for carrying out the assignment Optimus had given him. Bumblebee was his guardian! It was his job to protect Raf from all danger. That's what he _did_.

"What did who do to who?" Miko asked.

She and Jack had just arrived and heard only the last sentence spoken by Raf. They exchanged glances, both noting the anger which had changed Raf's face almost so they couldn't recognize it. His brow was furrowed, his eyes narrowed, his face red, hands clenched at his sides, teeth unconsciously bared, his breath hissing between them in excessive gasps.

"Don't walk away from me!" Raf yelled, "Tell me what you've done!"

"I have done what I had to," Optimus said without turning towards Raf, "Even if I had not, Bumblebee would surely have sentenced himself."

Raf opened his mouth to speak again, but Ratchet interrupted.

"Best leave it at that," he advised, "What's done is done. There's nothing you can say or do to change it. So you had better find a way to accept it."

"No!" Raf snarled a rare flash of temper, "You don't get it! There wasn't any driver! I saw the car when it came at me. There _was no_ driver! You're punishing Bee for something he didn't do!"

Optimus, who had been walking away, stopped. He seemed to consider Raf's statement. Ratchet and the others were silent, unsure what to say, or how to react to the emotional outburst.

"You can't know that for certain," Optimus said finally, "There _was_ a body. A man _was_ killed. No matter what you wish was true, the evidence is clear."

"Bumblebee wouldn't hurt anyone!" Raf shouted, eyes shimmering more with hate than tears, "You know that! You know he's always careful! He wouldn't have done it if he wasn't sure. You _have_ to know that."

"When it comes to defending you, I fear Bumblebee is capable of anything," Optimus said quietly.

He then continued walking. Raf yelled after him.

"Doesn't his loyalty mean anything to you!? He lost his voice for your war! If he killed someone it was because there was no choice! But I'm telling you, he didn't kill anyone! Do you hear me!? You've betrayed the best Scout you've ever had!"

Suddenly exhausted by his emotions, Raf fell to his knees, his shoulders slumped and his body shook as he fought not to cry. He wasn't going to cry again. He couldn't.

Miko didn't know what that was about, but she did see Raf was in pain. She went and knelt beside him, put a hand on his back. Wordlessly, she looked to Jack to make it better. To fix it, whatever it was.

Jack had noticed that Arcee was unusually quiet, but he didn't know what was going on either. He turned to Arcee, whose expression was pained. She knew what he would ask. He knew she would tell him. And too, he knew that the revelation would wound her somehow. But he didn't know why.

"Let's go for a drive," Arcee said, transforming into her sleek motorcycle form.

In silence, Jack climbed aboard and snapped on his helmet, leaving Miko with Raf. Whatever it was, Arcee didn't want to talk about it. But she especially didn't want to talk about it in front of everyone. He wasn't sure why. It was obvious everyone but himself and Miko already knew what had happened yesterday. It wasn't a secret, but a shared pain, one he didn't understand. Yet.

He waited impatiently for Arcee to carry him beyond the base, out in the stretch of empty desert between there and town. And then he demanded an explanation.

"Talk to me, Arcee," he said.

With obvious reluctance, she explained events as she knew them. The day before, Optimus had assumed it was an accident. But what Raf just said changed things. It meant that Bumblebee had intentionally pushed the vehicle over the edge. It wasn't an accident at all.

"But it was," Jack protested, "Bee couldn't have known there was a human driver. There must have been some reason for him to think that car was empty."

"I wish there was, but evidence suggests otherwise. And Optimus is right."

"Right about what?" Jack asked.

"Bumblebee would do anything to protect Raf. Including breaking all the rules he's lived by since he became an Autobot, the rules he has sworn to lay down his life in service of."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Arcee whispered, her voice cracking, "I'd do the same thing for you."

No wonder Arcee hadn't wanted to speak in front of the others. Jack knew as well as anyone that Autobots held human life in high regard. They would take any risk necessary to preserve human life, even if it cost them their own lives, the lives of their comrades, or even the cause they fought for. Yet Arcee had just admitted in so many words that she would break that rule, that rule above all other rules, the rule that Autobots must not harm humans. She knew she would, there was no question in her tone.

"Do you agree with Optimus? About sending Bee away?" Jack wanted to know.

"Let's just say I understand," Arcee said after a moment's hesitation.

"But you don't agree with him," Jack pressed, not letting the issue drop.

"That doesn't matter. Optimus has made his decision. Bumblebee is gone. He's not coming back. And now we'll just have to learn to get along without him. That includes Raf."

"He won't," Jack said, "He'll never forgive Optimus."

"How do you know?" Arcee asked.

"Because I wouldn't forgive him if he banished you."

* * *

_{You enjoyed it,} _purred the Viper, its alien voice just like his own.

_{Shut up,} _Bumblebee could hear his voice wavering.

_{The feeling of power...}_

_{No.}_

Bumblebee was driving back to the empty rest stop, the Viper was following him closely, whispering things in his ears. Things he didn't want to believe, but couldn't deny with as much conviction as he wished he could. They might be true. Might be... no. He would not believe that.

_{Victory was yours. Yet you kept on pushing. You loved it.}_

_{I did not.}_

_{You wanted him to die.}_

_{Stop it.}_

_{Bones crunching under metal, shattering into a thousand pieces. A violent death for an inferior being.}_

_{That's not true.}_

_{Thrilling, wasn't it? The feeling of flawless victory, your opponent powerless. You passing judgment, doing exactly what you've wanted to do ever since you arrived...}_

_{Shut up!}_

Bumblebee pulled into the rest stop, halted under the concrete and steel covering. The Viper halted right next to him, he could feel the heat radiating from its engine. It certainly seemed real.

_{If you're me, a product of my mind, then you know what you're saying isn't true,} _Bumblebee said.

_{Perhaps I know you better than you know yourself,}_

_{That makes no sense. I know the truth. I didn't mean to kill anybody. It makes me sick to think about it. So stop talking about it.}_

_{It wouldn't make you sick if I wasn't right. You're disgusted with yourself because you know the truth. And the truth is that you enjoyed it. You want to do it again. And again. You liked it. You know you did.}_

It couldn't be true. But if it wasn't true, why was this refugee from his subconscious claiming it was?

_{Admit it!}_ the Viper snarled _{You're a killer at the core. You've only ever held back because you didn't think you could get away with it.}_

_{No. I didn't because it's wrong,} _Bumblebee added hastily, _{And I didn't enjoy it.}_

_{Liar! You can't tell me you didn't feel a sense of triumph. A worthless life down the drain, one less piece of rusted scrap in this filthy world... you loved it.}_

_{I didn't,} _Bumblebee's voice was shaking, it was too quiet, too weak, lacking in conviction.

He couldn't even win against his subconscious. The Viper was right. Dimly now, he began to recall. There _was_ a driver behind the wheel. He'd seen him. He must have. There was no other explanation. He saw the driver, and he just didn't care. That's the only thing that made any sense.

_{Murderer.}_

_{No.}_

_{Killer of men.}_

_{No.}_

_{Slayer of the weak, insignificant fleshy scraplets this world has to offer.}_

_{Stop. Please... just stop it.}_

_{Destroyer of worlds.}_

_{By the Allspark, just shut your filthy mouth!}_

Bumblebee's engine roared, he flung himself into reverse, turned and exited the parking lot, determined not to say anything else to the Viper. Let him say anything he damn well pleased, Bumblebee was not prepared to listen. He was not going to hear any more.

But the Viper did not follow. In the mirror, Bumblebee could see that the Viper was watching him, the disturbing false grin more pronounced than ever. The Viper had won. Bumblebee wasn't sure how, or what it had won, but it had. He'd lost. Something in him told him that he'd lost.

Shudders shook him, shakes so bad he could barely stay in his lane and keep up to speed. Horror and revulsion coursed through him like living things. Writhing, cold, slimy things. Slithering demons inside, eating away at him, leaving him cold and empty. Void.

_What's happening to me? What have I become?_

* * *

At Jack's behest, Arcee showed him the site of the incident. Jack walked around, studying the tire tracks, then peering over the edge. Both the body and the vehicle had been removed, but the impressions where they had lain remained, the grass and brush flattened and broken.

"There's something not right about this," Jack said, scowling at the ground.

"There's a lot not right about this," Arcee hissed.

"No, that's not what I mean. Something about the marks on the ground. Something doesn't fit with the story you told me. I need to see the vehicle. What did Optimus say it was?"

"An Urbana Viper, I think. Why? Does it matter?" Arcee asked.

"I don't know," Jack replied absently, "But there's something here we don't understand. Something happened, something Optimus doesn't know about, and Raf hasn't said anything about. He may not know either. But... something tells me this wasn't a chance meeting. Whoever came up here in that car, they knew Raf would be here. They planned this. It wasn't some random drunk driver who got a funny idea in his head. These marks, the persistence of the assailant... it speaks of intent. Whoever was behind the wheel of that Viper, they wanted Raf dead in a bad way."

"What difference does that make?" Arcee wanted to know.

"I don't know. Perhaps none. But maybe... maybe it makes all the difference in the world. I _need_ to see that car, Arcee," Jack insisted.

"This is Agent Fowler's investigation. From what I heard, his superiors want Bumblebee eliminated. They believe he's a threat to national security. For his sake, I hope he's gone into hiding."

"Fowler won't give me access to the evidence," Jack said, "We'll have to get in some other way."

"Jack... whatever you're thinking..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in."

* * *

Bumblebee couldn't keep driving indefinitely. He was still exhausted, still badly injured. But he couldn't simply pull off to the side of the road, either. He would look like an abandoned vehicle. Authorities would be called, or someone might attempt to steal him. Either way, it was a risk he could not take. And so he kept going, looking for another rest stop.

None came into view, but a sign did tell him he was coming up on a town. He'd have to risk going into a town, resting in a parking lot where he wouldn't be so conspicuous as he'd be beside the road. Bumblebee kept checking his mirrors, expecting the Viper to be following him.

No less than half a dozen times, he thought he'd spotted the hated vehicle, only to discover it was a white sedan or a black pick up or a red station wagon, things that in no way resembling a bright green Urbana Viper. The vehicles invariably passed him; Bumblebee was driving dangerously below the speed limit, too tired to exceed sixty.

He turned off the Interstate reluctantly, and soon found himself entering a residential area. He drove past the neat rows of houses with their clean driveways and mowed front yards, drove into town, looking for a supermarket or something equal to it, where a parked car wouldn't attract much attention. At least, not until after the stores closed.

Exhaustion combined with tension, fraying Bumblebee's nerves to the breaking point. Once in town, he found himself surrounded by people. People on sidewalks, people in vehicles, people on bicycles. Did he want to kill them? Revulsion made him feel slightly ill, but he couldn't tell if that was because the idea nauseated him or if he felt sick because the idea actually appealed to him.

He was too tired to think, to understand what he was feeling. He just needed to rest. To power down for awhile, to have some relief from the relentless questions his mind was flinging at him. And then he could find a source of energon, and begin to make repairs to himself.

But he must rest now. Yes. Rest. That's what he needed, what he craved above all else. To the Pit with that Viper, it didn't have a clue what it was talking about. Bumblebee didn't want violence, didn't want to kill, didn't want anything except relief from the tension which had consumed him, rest, a break from this world with its chaos and violence. Rest. Yes. _Rest_.

It seemed to take forever to find a parking lot. That was largely because Bumblebee was so tired he was sort of driving on autopilot, just going in a straight line down the road, only aware enough of his surroundings to avoid hitting other vehicles. He'd circled the town two or three times before he finally located a grocery store. He turned into the parking lot, and came to a halt under one of the trees at the far side, well away from the store itself.

He stopped, cut the engine and tried to relax.

Trouble was, he was so exhausted that he couldn't easily identify the sounds around him. Each time a car engine started he was jolted wide awake. Each door that slammed, each shopping cart rattling across the parking lot, each group of people chattering to one another, each flock of birds in the trees, everything was strange to him. Stranger than usual. He had to come fully awake to identify the sounds, and he didn't dare sleep if he wasn't sure his position was secure.

But, at long last, he managed to power down, to relinquish his desperate vise-grip on awareness.


	7. Chapter 7

_{Vile, aren't they?}_

Bumblebee was snapped back to reality by the sound of a voice quite close to him. He glared balefully at the Viper, which had parked in the space in front of him. A twitched of a side mirror indicated the Viper was referring to the people going into and coming out of the store.

Bumblebee did not reply. If this car was something from his subconscious, it was safe to ignore it. He powered down his optics, refusing to dignify the comment with an answer.

_{So fragile. So pathetic. So self-centered. Think they own the world. Not a one of them realizing how frail life is, how easy it would be for them to be blown away. A sudden gust of wind... poof, all gone.}_

Bumblebee tried to ignore the Viper. Tried, and failed.

_{Miserable insects, crawling all over the planet, making it rotten to the core with their waste. Disgusting creatures. Worthy of derision. Worthy of loathing.}_

Bumblebee didn't respond. He wanted to tell the green beast off, tell him that he was wrong. He wanted to point out the good qualities of humanity. But he was too tired to think of any. His internal clock told him he'd been asleep no more than half an hour.

His sleep had been far from peaceful, fraught with nightmarish images, haunting replays of the battle. Only in the dreams he wasn't protecting Raf. He was just running down an innocent driver, forcing them off the road, actually laughing at them.

Unlike most nightmares, this one had not been caused by an outside source. No demonic beast chased him through his dreams because, in them, _he_ was the monster.

_{Can you even imagine the horrors they would put the universe through if they got out in it? Forget robot wars. They would be as a plague of scraplets, demolishing and consuming everything, leaving nothing behind but waste. You think the Decepticons are bad? At least Megatron realizes a world has to still be alive in order to be conquered.}_

_{I hate you,} _Bumblebee hissed.

It was a weak comeback, and he knew it. But he could think of nothing else to say, no other way to respond. He couldn't escape his tormentor, because the Viper was a part of him. He also didn't seem to be able to make the Viper disappear at will. Either that or he hadn't yet discovered how.

_{No. No you really don't. You hate them,}_ the Viper gestured towards the crowds of people, _{You despise them. As well you should. For they are the real destroyers. Oh they lack the technology of Autobots and Decepticons, but they will get there. And you know their history. You've heard it talked of. You know that they never learn. Time and time again, they look at the devastation of war, and they say 'Never again'. And then they cling to that, hold onto it while some tyrant takes over. Then they decide they don't like it. They don't want to be ruled. And so they rise again. They have bigger wars all the time, fought with ever more complex technologies and science, but the same minds are behind it all. They have never learned, they will never learn.}_

_{So what?}_ Bumblebee grumbled sulkily.

_{So what? So __**what**__?} _the Viper's oily voice was right next to him, breathing across his hood, _{So one day they'll expand. One day they'll go out into space and they'll look around and they'll decide they don't like it full of things that are not them. They don't like things which resemble themselves but are not exactly as they are. They will seek us out, and they will destroy us.}_

_{Us? What us? You're not real.}_

_{Are you so certain? What makes you think you're real?}_

_{Stop it. You're making my head hurt.}_

_{So what? What's a little pain to the brave Scout? Oh wait... that's right. You're not a Scout anymore are you? And who did that to you? Who cast you out? Who threw you aside like an old cog?!}_

_{Stop it,} _Bumblebee pleaded.

_{Who used you and then got rid of you the instant you made a mistake? The moment you revealed that you were imperfect, that you made a mistake!? WHO WAS IT, SCOUT!?}_

_{Stop it, stop, please stop it!}_

Bumblebee started his engine and threw himself into reverse, almost smashing into an SUV parked behind him. He turned sharply and practically launched himself across the parking lot, towards the exit.

_{Tell me, Scout: where will you run!? Where do you think you can hide that he cannot find you!? Where can you go to escape the truth of what you are!?}_

But the Viper didn't follow him. The thing just stayed in the parking lot, watching him leave. The Viper would find him again. He knew it. The Viper was never really gone. It was always with him. He couldn't escape it. He shouldn't even try. But he couldn't stand the sound of the thing's voice. He couldn't stand not having an answer for anything it said.

Pain shot across his optics and through the rest of him, jolting as electric current. He needed to get away, he needed to rest, needed sleep. He needed to stop running. But he couldn't. He couldn't bear to hear the Viper's words because he couldn't argue against them effectively. And that brought an unwanted question to mind. If he could not prove the Viper wrong, did that mean the monstrous apparition was actually right? Did he really want to kill?

_Stop it! For Cybertron's sake, just stop it!_

Dangerously unfocused, he swung out of the parking lot, onto the street. Bumblebee had the overwhelming urge to leave town. Suddenly all of the buildings seemed menacing. They seemed to be closing in with the falling sun, though he suspected it was actually just the advancing shadows.

Cold flowed through him like energon, perhaps a product of having lost so much of the latter. He knew it wasn't really cold, at least not for an Autobot. It had to be above thirty degrees Fahrenheit, well above actually. It had gone down to freezing the night before, and the chill of night was still clinging onto the day. Or maybe that too was his imagination.

Bumblebee didn't realize it, but he was leaking energon again, and he had precious little to spare.

He checked his mirrors, but didn't see the Viper. He knew he shouldn't expect to. The thing would be there waiting, wherever he went. There was no losing it because the damn thing wasn't really there.

_You're running away from yourself. You're trying to hide from yourself! Stop it!_

But he couldn't. The Viper gave him the creeping horrors. With its words, with its mere presence, the damn thing brought uncomfortable thoughts to mind, made Bumblebee question what he thought was true about himself.

Maybe he would have confronted the horrible truth much sooner if he'd been alone all along. Maybe he would have already learned what the Viper was only now telling him. He couldn't entirely disagree with the Viper. What it said was true.

Mankind was far from perfect, and it was a pale reflection of Cybertron's dim distant past. But that wasn't all there was. Bumblebee knew that wasn't _all_ they were. But he couldn't think. He just couldn't think. Except that he obviously could. The Viper, produced by his own mind, seemed to have no trouble with his thinking.

Perhaps that was what scared him most. The Viper, the devil within, seemed both strong and coherent, whereas Bumblebee felt like he was losing his grip on what was real and what wasn't. How long would it be before he simply ceased to exist, before he became the monster this inner demon of his wanted him to be and said he really was?

_Optimus, why couldn't you have known? Why couldn't you have put a stop to this?! Why does it hurt so much!?_

He realized that he'd stopped, his front wheels on the Interstate, back wheels not yet committed. Where was he going to go? What was he going to do? Was there a point to running? Maybe he ought to just go back, provoke one of the Autobots into ending it for him.

_No. I can't do that to them. I can't force them to make that decision. I can't._

He was trembling again, as much from cold as fear, exhaustion left his mind a haze of indecision.

_{You'd like to go back, give that Prime a piece of your mind.}_

A shiver ran through him as he realized the Viper had come up beside him, appeared silent as a phantom, whispering things he didn't want to hear. Yet some part of him must want to hear it, if he was conjuring up this refugee from a nightmare.

_{No.}_

_{Go back to base. Get rid of them. They did this to you. Punished you for something you didn't do.}_

_{I did. I did. I killed that man.}_

_{Oh. What a crime. Throw away a perfectly good soldier on account of a fleshy creature which would have gotten old and died anyway. Killed a creature that would have killed you. What's wrong with that?}_

_{Everything.}_

_{Everything? Would you rather it was you?}_

_{Yes. I would.}_

_{Really? And what about your boy? The human whom you would offer your life to protect? If you had not acted, he would be dead now. Would you prefer that?}_

_{I didn't say that,} _Bumblebee protested.

_{Didn't you? Think about it, Scout. What did you really mean?}_

_{I don't know!}_ Bumblebee wailed plaintively, _{I'm so tired, you've got me confused!}_

_{You did it to yourself. This is your show, remember? You did this.}_

_{No. No, I... I...} _He broke off, unsure what he meant.

Bumblebee couldn't think straight. Cars were rushing past, flashing by. Horns were honking. He was in the way. He needed to either get moving or get off the road. He needed to make a decision. He needed to decide, and do it now. Right now. Go, stay, what? His head hurt, a pulsating pain inside that didn't have any sensible origin, and wouldn't quit.

_{You what? You're an Autobot? Come on, Scout. We both know that's not true. You're not Autobot. And you're no hero either. You just do what's necessary. You've always played by the rules, haven't you, Scout? And what did you get for it? One slip and you're tossed out. Nobody cares about you, Scout. And anybody who ever said they did was lying.}_

_{That's isn't true. It's not. Stop saying things like that.}_

_{Would you rather I lied to you like everyone else? Come on, Scout. I'm telling it like it is. You know it too, or else you wouldn't be arguing with me like this. Think of something that's real. You got it? Tell me what it is. What is it you believe in? Scout? Don't you believe in anything? Nothing? The Prime took everything from you. Stripped you down and sent you away to rot. Didn't even have the bearings to finish it himself. Let the Earth do it for him. Sent you to die. Ordered you to die.}_

_{No!}_

Bumblebee roared out onto the Interstate, forcing drivers to stomp on the brakes to avoid smashing into him. He launched into the road, roared away, accelerating as fast as he could. He had to get away, get away from the Viper. He didn't want to listen anymore. He didn't like what it had to say.

He also didn't look where he was going. Bumblebee careened off the Interstate, into the grassy strip and then onto the road where traffic was going the other way. A truck horn blared at him and he spun the wheel, turning sharply to avoid being crushed by the larger vehicle.

Then another vehicle slammed into his side, blindsiding him. He spun, flipping over off the road on the other side. The other vehicle slammed into him again and again, and he rolled off the road farther. Finally it crashed him into a large boulder, and everything went mercifully black at last.

* * *

"_Jack," _Arcee hissed, _"What's taking so long?"_

She was too large to sneak into the compound and so had to wait outside while Jack slipped in to get a look at the files, trying to find out where the vehicle had been towed to. He'd been inside for fifteen minutes, almost twice as long as they'd agreed too, and Arcee was afraid he'd get caught.

"I can't find it," Jack said into his phone, through which Arcee was speaking.

"_What?"_

Jack stuffed the files back into the cabinet, turned to the computer whose owner had left it logged in. He'd already clicked through all the files that appeared promising before turning to the hard copies. He'd done it three times, just to be sure of the facts. He couldn't believe it, but there was no other explanation.

"There is no record of a vehicle being totaled on that hill yesterday. There's a file for the man who was killed but, according to the files, there was _no_ vehicle."

The line was silent, and for a moment Jack thought it had gone dead.

"Arcee? Arcee, are you there?"

"_Jack... if the vehicle isn't in the hands of Agent Fowler... then where is it? And what does that mean?"_

"It means something's going on. This wasn't just a freak accident. Something more was going on. There's something we're missing, something we're not seeing."


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: In the real world, a lack of air conditioning has produced a lack of sleep which, in turn, has caused a lack of literacy. I apologize for any increase in typos due to my negligence, but I figured it was more important that the story continue to be posted than be most thoroughly proofread. I am still proofreading, but probably not in a very effective fashion. Thank you for your time, and I hope y'all continue to enjoy the story._**

* * *

"I'm telling you, Prime, there _was_ no car," Fowler insisted.

He was very much displeased to learn that Jack and Arcee had been slinking around secretly, and he was especially miffed to have been called at four in the morning. He did not appreciate coming down here in what he felt was the dead of night, to discuss the misbehavior of one of Optimus' Autobots, only to have it turned around on him. And he really didn't appreciate finding out that he had not been told everything, such as the fact that Bumblebee had pushed a car, rather than a body, off a hill.

"There was when I was there," Optimus said mildly.

"Not when I got there," Fowler told him, "And that man didn't die in a car crash."

"He didn't?" Jack interrupted, looking from Autobot to man and back again.

Optimus must have been startled by this revelation, but he neither said anything nor did anything. He simply waited for Fowler to speak, to tell what he knew.

"According to the team who did the autopsy, our victim was struck from the left," he gestured to his left hip, "Hit hard enough to knock him down, whereupon his assailant presumably drove over him, and then came back for another go 'round. The car rolled over him diagonally, both wheels, crushing the pelvis and ribcage, and bursting a number of internal organs. The man was dead by the time he went down the hill, those injuries are all postmortem."

Jack winced at the picture Fowler painted, glad that Raf wasn't here. But he knew he must speak in place of Raf, for someone had to say what the boy would have if he were here.

"Bumblebee didn't flatten anyone," Jack said firmly, "You'd know that if you'd been looking at the crime scene more closely. Nobody was flattened. A car was pushed off the side of the road, after having come into violent contact with another car."

"The victim was killed earlier, then transported to the scene," Fowler said with a shrug, "So the bug wanted to cover his tracks, make it look like an accident instead of straight up murder."

"No," Jack protested, though he could barely choke out the words, "That's not what happened."

"Look, son, I'm sorry, but that's how it looks," Fowler said, "The victim was deader than Elvis when he hit the bottom, but somebody ran over him before that. Twice. And the Scout's our only suspect."

"Bee's not a killer. Not like this," Jack insisted, swinging to face the Autobot leader suddenly, "Tell him, Optimus, tell him he's wrong!"

"I fear I have made a grave error," Optimus said in a low voice, tinged with horror, "I permitted emotion to cloud my judgment and in so doing may well have unleashed a monster to wreak havoc upon all of humanity."

"You're not seriously buying this scrap, Optimus," Arcee said, crossing her arms, "You don't really believe Bee's capable of murder, do you?"

"I did not believe Megatron was capable of ravaging our world until there was no life left in it. He was my friend, and I did not see until too late the beast which dwelled inside of him."

"You're equating Bee with Megatron?" Jack gasped in disbelief.

"I must consider the possibility. The consequences for my rushed decision may be fatal."

"I don't believe this," Arcee snapped, her eyes flashing angrily, "I can't believe that you would even consider that Bumblebee intentionally ran over someone."

"Because I did not consider Megatron in the light of reason, I did not see his treachery until it was too late. My misplaced faith in him has prolonged this war. My lack of suspicion was what gave him his power. I will not allow that to happen again. Never again."

"But there _was_ a car," Jack protested, "You saw it."

"There wasn't any car," Fowler argued.

"Whether there was or was not a car is of little significance at this juncture," Optimus said.

"Really?" Arcee spat, "Because I think it's the only thing of significance. Earth cars don't just up and walk away. Only a Cybertronian could do that."

"Unless there was a reason to keep the car hidden," Fowler pointed out, "If your Scout got it from a junkyard, we'd find out on closer inspection. He may have brought it to the scene to convince Optimus, then returned to remove it later, before my guys could get there."

"I do not believe so, Agent Fowler," Optimus disagreed, "Bumblebee would not risk returning for any reason. Aside from which, he had sustained heavy damage from another vehicle."

"So he didn't flatten anyone," Arcee said.

"Not necessarily correct. It is possible there was an altercation. Perhaps your Scout bashed this guy around in his own car, then backed off until he got out to call for a tow, and then WHAM! Finished him off," Fowler theorized.

"That makes no sense," Jack protested.

"None of this makes sense," Arcee added.

"Neither does Megatron's lust for unlimited power," Optimus said, "Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And we of Cybertron are undeniably more powerful than the people of Earth."

"And yet, we don't go around flattening innocent people," Arcee pointed out, "We control ourselves, we don't kill people. Not even accidentally."

"What if one of us did?" Optimus asked, point-blank, "What if the allegations are true? What if Bumblebee committed the crime of murder?"

"Then I'd say we hunt him down, put him down for good," Arcee replied without a moment's hesitation, "But not before we're sure. Not until there's proof. What's the Earth saying, Jack?" she hesitated a moment, "Until proven guilty, innocent?"

"Innocent until proven guilty," Jack corrected.

"Right," Arcee turned back to Optimus, "Right now, we have no proof. Only circumstantial evidence. We don't _know_ what happened. We need to find Bee, and hear what he has to say. Something we ought to have done before now."

"That could be easier said than done," Optimus sighed, "A few hours ago, Ratchet informed me that Bumblebee's life signal went offline."

"That doesn't mean he's dead," Arcee said more fiercely than intended.

"No. But it does mean that we cannot find him easily. It also means that he has cut ties with the Autobots, that he has no intention of ever being found."

"If he was innocent, he'd have no reason to hide," Fowler pointed out.

"Unless he thought we believed he was guilty," Arcee said, "If he realized that he was being set up."

"Set up? By who? And how?" Fowler asked.

"That is one of many questions we must consider before taking further action," Optimus said.

Fowler's phone rang. He answered it, identifying himself in a crisp tone, then listening. It seemed as though he went pale, and he spoke hurriedly, then hung up.

"What is it, Agent Fowler?" Optimus inquired.

"We... we better turn on the TV," Fowler said in a slightly weak voice, "Things just got a whole lot worse. A whole lot worse."

* * *

It was dark. And damp, and dank. The room was small, cramped, more like a shipping crate than a room at all. The sound of unoiled gears grinding was deafening, echoing hollowly outside and reverberating inside. So loud, metal crunching and squealing against metal, tearing itself slowly to pieces, but not quietly. A horrible shrieking death of a lifeless machine.

The noise was maddening, all-consuming, relentless, endless. Moaning, wailing, screaming. The sound groaned on and on and on, never stopping, never growing quieter. So loud, so painfully loud. In the utter blackened darkness, it was possible to imagine the precipice of insanity. Looking down from a world of darkness into an ink-black pit of madness.

An involuntary, shuddering buzz escaped Bumblebee, and he tried to curl up into an even tighter ball. He hated this place. He hated that noise. He hated the darkness, the small room, the dampness which threatened to rust him, the machine that made the noise and _everything._ He wanted all of it to just go away, be gone forever, leaving him in blessed peace.

But it didn't stop. The claustrophobic container did not expand, the noise did not grow quiet, the wet did not dissipate. It just went on, and seemed to have been going on forever. No beginning or ending to this black night, this spark-shattering noise. But worse than the noise, he knew, was what would happen if the noise ever stopped and the door to the room was opened.

When the noise stopped, _he_ would come. _He_ would kill him. Just one circuit at a time. Ripping, tearing, cutting away at him, who he was. Gnawing away at him until there was simply nothing left. And then, after that, _the program_. Bumblebee shuddered just thinking about it. Rewriting his software, chewing him up inside, eating him, swallowing him whole. Slowly destroying him, piece by piece, leaving him empty. As hollow as the echo of the gears in their endless march to destruction.

He hated the noise. But worse than his hate was his fear. His fear sat like a big amorphous monster, he could almost feel it grinning at him in the dark. Madness. Descending into it, drowning in it. Consumed by it. Ceasing to be, being no more. He shuddered again.

He wished someone would come and find him. Not _him_, someone else. He didn't know who, couldn't possibly remember. That knowledge had already been taken away, deleted, erased. It was gone. But the feeling that someone was out there, still looking for him, hadn't gone away. Could not be destroyed.

Hope, glimmering faintly in this endless black hell, was all he had to hold onto. The only thing keeping him from falling forever into the black pit of insanity, keeping fear from completely smothering him. But each time _he_ came, it got fainter. Hope was dying. Slowly, painfully, becoming bent and twisted from the torture it was being forced to endure. Soon it would be gone, and Bumblebee would be all alone with the Fear. And Madness. Bitter, maniacal, mindless, Madness.

The noise stopped. A terrible silence crept in, stealing through the darkness and sapping Bumblebee's strength. The silence was far worse than the noise could ever be. It closed in, making the room smaller and smaller, crushing him. It wrapped itself around Hope, squeezing it into nothing. It shattered Hate, leaving only Fear. Cold, biting terror closed in with the silence. There was nowhere to run, no place to hide. The silence and fear overtook him, claiming his senses, his circuits, his body, his mind. Slowly seeping into every corner of his being, eating him away. It was agony, slowly dying in the darkness alone. Crumbling, Bumblebee tried to cry out, but he couldn't make a sound. Inescapably, inexorably, he was fading away. His legs were gone now, but it didn't matter because there was nowhere to run. Then his body, his arms, his hands, his face, his eyes, all gone now. All that was left was a vulnerable, trembling Spark. And then, the darkness consumed that too. He was gone. All gone. Replaced with a ceaseless flood of Nothing. Blackness, like an ocean tide, flowing in the darkness, seeking escape from this Nothing. Nothing. Nothing was there. Then there was a light. Distant, faint. A dark red light, the color of human blood. Escape. Towards the light, go towards the light. Suddenly it was blocked, a terrible shadow fell across the light, spreading its wings. A shriek rang through the air, echoing endlessly, horribly. There was no light now, no Nothing. Just an endless void. Blackness.

_Megatron!_

_{Awaken. See what your precious humanity has done.}_

The voice of the Viper reverberated in his mind, and Bumblebee came to awareness, leaving dreams and memories to lie in their darkness alone. There was no machine, no tiny room. He knew who he was, and why he was alone. He was uncertain how he had gotten where he was, parked on the edge of the road in a rundown Earth neighborhood.

Crumbling buildings leaned against each other for support, peeling paint marred by messy graffiti. Four kids just a little older than Jack were hanging around. Two boys were circling him, one held a tire iron. A third boy was pinning a girl to Bumblebee's hood, he could feel her body heat. Salty drops of water splashed upon metal, slid down the yellow hood. She was crying. Why was she crying? The boys were all laughing, seemed to be having a good time.

But their laughter was cruel, like the mad cackling of Starscream.

"Let me go! Please, just let me go!" the girl choked out between tearful gasps.

The boys laughed more. And then the one with the tire iron swung. The iron crashed against the hood, inches from the girl's head. She screamed as it was raised. This time it cracked the driver's side window. The implement of destruction came down a third time. This time the glass shattered.

The girl let out a wail of terror as the boys forced their way inside the car.

The boy with the iron stepped back, allowing one of his companions to open the door and do a swift search of the car. Under the seats, behind the sun shades, under the dash. Searching, searching, not finding. He pulled out of the car, shook his head.

"We'll have to hot-wire it then," the boy holding the girl down growled, "No way we're leaving this beauty here to get stolen. It's ours now."

The other boy nodded, slid into the driver's seat while the boy with the tire iron opened the back door and stood back, giving the third boy room to maneuver the girl into the back seat.

Bumblebee felt violated. These people had broken his window, they were mucking about with his mechanics, grubby fingers prying wires loose, sparking them together, forcing their way inside, taking what was not theirs. And the girl, still screaming, writhing in the arms of her captors, crying out in terror, eyes wide like a frightened animal, breath coming in quick, shallow gasps, her face chalk white.

_Terrified_.

_{So why not stop them?}_ the Viper asked, and Bumblebee could imagine the sinister grin that usually accompanied the sinuous voice, _{There's no reason to hide from these pathetic creatures, scrabbling about in the dirt. They believe themselves powerful, but it takes three to subdue one frightened girl, smaller than any one of them. You could finish them all, barely even blink doing it. They deserve it. So why not?}_

Bumblebee shuddered. He wanted to. He _really_ wanted to. But he could not reveal his true nature. It was one of the rules he lived by. He could not interfere with human affairs. He knew what he should do. Just refuse to start, make them find another car. But he couldn't make himself do that.

He had to know what was going to happen to the poor frightened girl. He had no business knowing, but he could not ignore the fear in her eyes. He allowed his engine to start with a cough.

"Hell yeah!" The driver exalted.

"Woo!" the kid riding shotgun shouted, flinging his fists up like he was on a roller coaster.

"Let's get this shit going!" the third cried, "And hurry it up, before the cops show up. Won't be long before somebody realizes Cindy's missing the party!"

The driver obediently put the car in gear and jammed his foot down on the accelerator. Bumblebee shot forward into the road, the driver yanking the wheel just in time to prevent him from rocketing into the telephone pole on the other side of the street.


	9. Chapter 9

The temperature wavered just a little above freezing, the sun had yet to rise, the landscape was colored in shades of gray. Bumblebee's headlights sliced knife-like through the thick darkness, illuminating the road ahead. Inside, it was dark. The girl was whimpering. The boys had grown quiet, tense.

The roads were empty of traffic. It was too late to be coming home, too early to be going to work or school. The town was deserted, seemingly lifeless in the predawn. The stillness was eery, rows of silent houses without lights, stores and shops not open for business, no sign of occupation.

But they were driving out of town, out into the desert, where no one would spot them. Was it only the fear of being caught that stilled their conversation and silenced their laughter? Or did they also have consciences telling them they were doing wrong?

"Turn right here," ordered the one in the back.

"I know what I'm doing," snapped the driver, with more venom than seemed necessary.

But not one of them wondered aloud if they should be doing this, if maybe they should quit while they were ahead. Not one seemed to have doubts, none of them sounded hesitant. If anything, they sounded impatient. It seemed to be the waiting that was driving them crazy. The possibility that they would be caught and stopped before they managed to finish what they'd started.

"Please," the girl whispered, "Just let me go."

"Can't," replied the boy next to her, "Not now you've seen our faces."

"I'd never tell anyone, please, I'd never admit it was you!" her voice was rising into notes of hysteria.

"And why would you?" the kid riding shotgun asked, twisting in his seat to look back at her, "You never acknowledged our existence before."

Her eyes brightened, latching onto the offered thread of hope, her one chance at escape.

"Exactly," she breathed, only a fraction of a second later realizing her error, "I mean no. That's not... not what I meant... please, I'm _scared_."

Her trembling voice cut Bumblebee to his core. He had to do something. She was so helpless, so scared. He had to do something. But he couldn't. This was between the girl and the three boys, whatever it was. It had nothing to do with Decepticons and Autobots. Bumblebee shouldn't even be here. But he was here, and he couldn't just ignore what was happening, could he?

Truth be told, he didn't know what was happening, not for sure. But he'd heard the tone of the boys' laughter before. It was the same sound he'd heard once in his own mind, when Megatron had stolen his body from him. And he'd heard it before that, when he'd been left brutally mangled, near death, unable to speak. He knew that hated sound, no matter whose voice made it.

It wasn't just triumph, power, ego. It was the knowledge that someone was suffering, or going to suffer by your hand. Taking pleasure in that knowledge, willfully causing pain to another for amusement. Bumblebee knew that sound all too well. He could not ignore it.

"What are you going to do to me?" the girl managed to choke the words out between tears.

"Make you deliver on your promise," the boy beside her said, reaching out and stroking her sweat-greased hair, she started to recoil from him but checked herself, held still except for trembling, "It's not nice to break your promises. And I'd like to think you're a nice girl."

"W-what does that mean?" she asked in a low voice.

"You know what you did," he said, his voice suddenly hard.

His hand ran down the side of her white face, held her chin a moment, then pushed her face away. He made a face of disgust and she bit back a cry at his uninvited intimate touch.

Bumblebee didn't know what the boy was talking about. Not in precise terms. But the tone told all he needed to know. They were going to hurt the girl, maybe kill her.

_Do something!_ What could he do?

_{You could always stop,}_ hissed the barely audible voice of the Viper, sounding like the sigh of an air conditioner in his head, _{Pretend to malfunction, behave as though you have no fuel. That's what Prime told you. Do not permit yourself to become involved. Maintain your cover at all costs, do not interfere with humanity for any reason.}_

He should stop. He should. But he couldn't. The Viper knew why.

_{But that wouldn't stop them. Maybe slow them down. Maybe not even that. Maybe they do it here instead of wherever they're going. Do nothing, and that poor, sweet, innocent human girl will die. Can you live with that, knowing you could have stopped it? Knowing she could have lived? Abide by the rules laid down for you by the one who abandoned you, and she will suffer for it.}_

He wanted to yell at the voice to shut up. But he couldn't do that without being heard by his passengers. He couldn't react in any way, or else he'd risk exposure. He couldn't _do_ anything.

_{You know the nature of these human males. You know what they will do. You must preserve human life. Your master has given you that order. Your master who abandoned you. These males will take what they want, do what they want, and no one will punish them. No one will stop them. No one will ever know what became of dear Cindy after she disappeared from her seventeenth birthday party.}_

Birthday party? What birthday party? Bumblebee didn't know anything about a birthday party. He didn't know how old the girl was. Or did he? What had he done after he blacked out? Where had he gone? What did he know but not fully remember?

Bumblebee remembered nothing after leaping out into traffic and blacking out. But the dents had been pounded out of his frame, he'd been repainted where he'd collided with the Viper. The energon leak had been stifled, and he felt stronger, as though he had more energon in his system than before.

What had he done? Where had he gotten help? How long had he been out?

It was unsettling enough that he was seeing things, hearing voices. Worse was the notion that he was doing things without awareness, acting without thought, later remembering nothing. He was disappearing. Something inside was taking over.

_{What will it be? The boys? Or the girl? To whom are you most loyal? The Prime? Or yourself? You hate this. You're being used, Scout. Do something about it.}_

Bumblebee didn't think. He just acted.

They were leaving town, heading out into the desert. A sharp left curve in the road was made only slightly safer by a guard rail to prevent cars from leaping off into the oblivion of the steep downward slope along the right side of the road. Turning sharply to the right, Bumblebee slammed headlong into the railing, flinging his full weight and power into it. The metal groaned in protest, then snapped with an awful screech of tearing metal.

Bumblebee leaped down the embankment nose first, tires digging into the dirt and low grasses. The boys were screaming, the driver was trying to slam on the brakes.

Bumblebee caught the girl in a seat belt, buckling her in safely while the boys bounced around loose, having forgotten their own belts in their eagerness to get out of town.

Lurch, jolt, bang!

Bumblebee's left front tire collided with a half-buried boulder and he was slammed to an abrupt halt, his momentum and the slant of the embankment sent his back wheels pitching over his front ones, he rolled once, came to rest on his wheels and rocked on badly abused shock absorbers.

The girl had screamed the whole way down, the boys cries were cut off as they bounced around like they were in a pinball machine. When Bumblebee hit the bottom of the embankment, silence reigned.

_What have I done?_

Bumblebee felt a trembling begin at his spark, threatening to spread from there to take over. Had he killed the boys? If he had, he was guilty of murder. Not accidental, but intentional. He hadn't thought first. Pushed by the girl's fear, the boys' laughter, the voice in his head, he'd acted without forethought.

He could have killed them. Worse, he wasn't even sure he'd feel badly if he had.

Movement in the back. The girl was stirring, discovering she was largely unhurt. Slowly, she reached for her belt buckle. She held her breath fearfully, sighed with relief when she freed herself easily.

Biting her lower lip, she stared at the boys. Her eyes were wide, frightened. She expected them to wake up any second. She was scared to death, not from the crash, but that it hadn't finished off her assailants. When none of them moved, she turned to her door. She pulled the handle, the door opened easily.

Bumblebee was virtually undamaged from the crash, and did nothing to hinder the girl's escape.

As she started to get out, the girl spotted something glinting on the floor. The tire iron. She turned, leaned down and picked it up. Her eyes reflected in the side mirror as she examined the weapon. A look came into her eyes which sent a chill through Bumblebee. He knew what she was going to do before she did it.

She turned, raised the iron in her fisted hand and brought it down, driving it into the back of the boy who had sat next to her. Bumblebee managed not to flinch as she pulled the iron away, sending blood spurting across the interior of the car. She brought it down again. Again. _Again_.

Screaming now, her terror transformed into primal fury. The tire iron flashed in the darkness, stained with blood. Blood on the pale hand that held it, splattering onto the torn dress, spotting on the feminine face which was contorted into a hideous mask of savage fury.

Now she was out of the car, moving to the passenger side. She grabbed the outside handle with a blood soaked hand. Bumblebee depressed the locking mechanism, refused to open for her. She screamed, yanked on the door, insane in her frenzy. Her feet slipped in the earth and she fell onto her rear, clinging to the door handle, fingers slick with blood.

She had been a victim a moment before, but now she was a killer, mad with blood lust, eager to deal out justice in its most primitive form, taking power while the advantage was hers.

Bumblebee held his ground, refused to let her in. She did not think to unlock the door, did not think to climb into the back. She was not thinking at all. She was not even a person now, just a thing, a thing which needed to kill, which _wanted_ to kill above all other desires. Wanted death. Craved it.

Bumblebee could feel the blood seeping into his upholstery, smell it filling the air. And too, he could feel the shallow breathing of the two boys in front. By his unthinking act, he had made a killer of the girl, had facilitated the death of one boy, put two others in danger.

Of all the things he could have done, the thing he did was the worst thing possible.

He had kept his secret intact, but had not left humanity alone to do as it would. He knew the rules. He knew why they were in place. He had made a terrible mistake, and this was the result.

The girl suddenly crumpled to the ground like a used Kleenex. Her legs folded up under her, the iron clattered to the ground. She still held the door handle, leaned her head against her upraised arms. Sobs shook her, animal cries escaped her throat. Fear had taken place of anger, and would soon manifest itself as guilt. She had just realized what she'd done, and was also coming to terms with what would have happened to her had the car not gone off the road.

_{She would have died had you not interfered. Would you have preferred that?}_

No. No, he wouldn't. But was this outcome really better? Bumblebee knew he was in no condition to judge. He knew also that, somehow, he had to get out of here. Before he was found, before he was identified. Before Optimus realized he'd let a killer go free.


	10. Chapter 10

_Numb._

The bright flash of lights. Shouted orders, requests for items not in arm's reach. The waning night bleeding red and blue. Sirens piercing the still air.

_Numb._

Padded metal trays on wheels. Crisp movements of men in uniforms. The girl wailing, sobbing, blood soaked hands. Strong arms caught her, stern words spoken in soothing tones.

_Numb._

White lights, the snapping of cameras, professionals documenting the events with a dispassionate and oddly artistic eye. A sheet thrown over a body, a corpse eyed without sympathy.

_Numb._

Samples taken, a winch attached to his rear bumper, an unseen machine dragging him up to the road where comments were made, heads shaken. A pity this happened. Damn shame.

_Numb._

The journey to points unknown, sunlight growing on the horizon, the world awash with colors which seemed to have lost their vibrancy in response to the tragedy which had taken place.

_Numb._

And then the parking lot. Left behind amidst vehicles which were torn and mangled beyond recognition, row upon row of skeletons, all that remained of those who misused them.

_Numb._

Now Bumblebee was alone, oblivious of the bright sun rising blinding white in the colorless sky. He thought nothing, felt nothing. He did not move, did not intend to ever move. Waiting for the inevitable. Somehow, the Autobots would learn what he'd done. They would come. They would end him before he could hurt anyone else. That would be good.

_Numb._

Bumblebee only slowly became aware that he was not as entirely alone as he thought. A car was parked to his right. A bright green Urbana Viper with sharp black trim. From the side, it seemed to have a sly expression, sinister thoughts percolating beneath the polished hood.

It was there. It was _right_ _there_. Right next to him. He hadn't even seen it when he was towed in, and the people who'd handled that operation didn't appear to have noticed either. The Viper wasn't there. They'd have seen it, known it didn't belong. And yet, here it was, like it had been lying in wait this whole time.

This product of his mind, this devil inside, it came without his bidding it, arrived when he least expected it, almost as though his own thoughts were somehow turning against him. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating, disappearing into a thick fog, like the world was vanishing from sight, until only the darkness and demons were left. His personal demon. His own private nightmare.

_{Why won't you leave me alone?}_ Bumblebee moaned miserably.

_{Did you enjoy that?}_ the question was answered with a question, the one question that Bumblebee did not feel like even contemplating the answer for.

_{What? No. Of course not. I was scared. I wasn't thinking. It was an accident.}_

_{An accident?}_ the Viper scoffed in a harsh voice, _{Do not lie to yourself, Scout. You are a soldier. You do not proceed across the street without having thought first. Don't kid yourself. You thought out all the angles, you knew exactly what you were doing. Don't tell me you didn't want them dead.}_

A chill ran along Bumblebee's door panels. Yes. For just a moment, hearing the terror in the girl's voice, feeling her fearful trembling in the back seat, Bumblebee had wanted to rip those boys apart. Their laughter still rang through his head, like a maniac playing a dirge as if it were polka music.

He shook himself.

_{No. That's not true. All human life is sacred. I would never do anything to hurt a human being. I am an Autobot. Autobots do not take human life. They are not murderers or assassins.}_

_{Correction: You _were_ an Autobot. You are Autobot no longer.}_

That wasn't true! Perhaps he was no longer a part of the war, perhaps his fellow Autobots would turn their backs on him, ashamed to have called him their brother, but he was still Autobot in spark, bound to be that and nothing else until the day he went offline.

He knew that. And yet still the Viper pressured him to denounce that fundamental truth, to become something he was not. Or, perhaps, merely something he did not want to admit he was. The Viper was right; Bumblebee was a soldier. He must have thought his actions through in a split-second, anticipated exactly what would happen. He didn't feel like he had, but he must have.

Somehow he was misremembering the sequence, believing he hadn't realized what would happen until too late. Surely he must have known. He had the time to think his course through. He'd had time. All the time he needed. He had done this. He had done this to himself, to those people, to the Autobots. And he had done it all on purpose.

But if that was really the case, why didn't it feel true? Why did it feel like a lie? Why did he feel like he was being manipulated? Deceived? Was his mind just trying to protect itself, and him, from the truth?

Suddenly he was filled with a feeling of recognition, of hate, and of fear. Rage clothed all these feelings in a blanket of fire. Fury seethed through him, inexplicable as it was undeniable. In a frenzy of rage, he gunned his engine, shifted gears, turned towards the Viper and hit the accelerator.

He wanted to destroy it. He wanted it gone, out of his head! Cold, bitter hurt and frightened bafflement had turned into a furiously boiling rage all in an instant. From tired, confused, scared scout, there came a fierce, furious and utterly irrational warrior. He felt no fear now, only burning. Seething fury, irrational rage, a painfully aching need to lash out, to vent his frustrations upon a deserving target.

The Viper seemed to be startled. He tried to reverse, get out of Bumblebee's way. He nearly succeeded, but Bumblebee's front left fender smashed into his right fender. The metal crumpled with the impact, a shrill screech of tearing metal the auditory proof of contact.

The Viper could be touched. It could be felt. It was _real_.

This knowledge brought with it a new wave of hate, all consuming animosity. The anger Bumblebee felt had an almost physical effect, it was painful. It burned. He didn't like it. Not the hate or the sensations that came with it. It was gripping, crushing, forcing him to bend to its malevolent will. It fueled his desire to destroy. Not just the Viper, but everything. He hated everything, everything was painful, wrong, a reminder of his weakness and damaged mind.

_What's happening to me!?_

He had to put a stop to this. He had to take control.

Instead of turning back, Bumblebee launched himself forward, darting between the broken bodies of these half-demolished cars, dodging through the machine graveyard. He spotted the gate, shut and locked, meant to keep people out of here. He didn't care, didn't acknowledge it, merely plowed through it. The gate exploded outward as though it had been struck with a missile.

It crashed aside, leaning on bent hinges as Bumblebee hit the exit speed bump too fast, jolted violently over it and sprang out onto the road at the back of the police station. He roared down the road, swung right without pausing or signaling, continued.

The anger coursed through him, preventing him from thinking. He drove on, blind and speeding, trying to escape the inescapable, to avoid the inevitable. He was losing his mind.

He'd probably smashed into one of those demolished cars, believing somewhere in his obviously twisted mind that it was the Viper, the vehicle he had destroyed day before yesterday.

Was it the day before yesterday? He was losing all track of time.

Terror had caught Bumblebee in its iron grip even as he had turned on the Viper. For one blinding instant, his rage had almost convinced him to rip the nonexistent Viper to pieces. Then he had realized what he was doing. And fear chilled him to the spark, driving him away like a sheepdog from Hell.

And so: Bumblebee fled. He had to get away, far away, before he did something he might regret. For a time, fear froze over his inexplicable rage, though sanity was still beyond his grasp. The world seemed to be shrinking, until the sky was hovering just a few inches above his roof. It felt like the edge of the universe was chasing at his bumper, driving him onwards to an ever shriveling horizon.

He went on and on, ever farther, trying to escape everything that was familiar, everything that had suddenly ceased to make any kind of sense to him. Beyond the desert, he ran into an icy rain storm. The drops of water seemed to hit him like punches, echoing as they slapped the ground. Lightning flashed, thunder rolled. The air crackled with electricity, shuddered with water. Noise. There was so much noise. It was so loud, never stopped. Voices in his head, whispering thoughts and desires which were not his own, yet must be his own somehow.

_The noise was maddening, all-consuming, relentless, endless._

The memory of the frail human body tumbling brokenly down the hill after the Viper hit with physical force, Bumblebee swerved across the road like a drunk, tires squealing on the blacktop as he struggled against the water-slick tarmac.

He got back in the correct lane, lining off. He was shuddering, trembling from the force of the memory blow. He didn't understand it, or the panic that came with it. He knew what had happened, and yet now he wasn't so sure. He knew what he'd done, but no longer had a keen grasp of what his motivations had been. He wanted to tear himself apart, be rebuilt. He wanted the pain to be gone. He didn't want to feel the anger or hate or fear. He couldn't understand it, much less control it. He wanted the madness to end. He only wanted the world to start making sense again.

_Madness. Descending into it, drowning in it._

And then he knew. He knew what he had to do.

He cried out, swerved wildly, crashed over a guardrail. And fell. Down, down, down. Falling into eternity. The silence was far worse than the noise could ever be.

* * *

The words_ 'Yellow Car Rampage' _made up the headline of the news story. With practiced breathless excitement, a brunette reporter gushed over the details of the 'mysterious car'. She spoke with all the sincerity of a used car salesman overselling a piece of junk and the enthusiasm of a sports commentator.

"_People are calling it 'the Ghost Car', though that is something of a misnomer. For, while the driver might as well be a ghost for all anyone has seen of them, the car itself is all too real."_

The reporter disappeared. In her place was a freeze frame which looked like it had been taken by a street camera. It appeared to be the exit of a parking lot. But the only item of interest to those watching was the yellow Urbana 500 with black trim which was at the photo's center.

They all knew it was Bumblebee. His tinted windshield concealed the absence of any driver, but his friends would have known him anywhere, with or without one. Even if he'd gotten new license plates, Jack would have known him. There was an indefinable quality to Cybertronians. You could just _feel_ that they were alive, that they were different from all the other vehicles around them.

He recalled that had been true even before he knew of Autobots and Decepticons. When he'd first seen Arcee, he'd instinctively referred to her as a she, not even because motorcycles were often called she. It was because he knew, somehow, that he was looking at a thing which was very much alive. Sometimes he wondered, if he'd seen Bee or Bulkhead first, would he have recognized them for what they were?

He returned his attention to the news broadcast.

"_This photo was taken just before the car went on a fifteen minute race through a small Nevada town. What followed was nothing short of harrowing for those involved."_

There was a cut to an earlier interview with someone identified as a bystander.

"_I saw this sports car just flash by, like a bat outta hell,"_ the bystander said, gesturing with one arm, _"Shot out of the parkin' lot, cut in front of a bunch of drivers. They hit their brakes, honked horns, but this guy didn't care. Launched into a lane the wrong way, just kept on goin' like he was bein' chased. Way he was goin', he probably was."_

As the witness related their story, the frozen image was returned, the witness pasted into a corner and the film played. It was obvious more than one camera was involved in capturing the described incident.

"What was Bee thinking?" Arcee exclaimed, appalled.

"He wasn't," Optimus replied curtly.

The yellow muscle car careened from one lane to another as though he owned all of them, rocketed through traffic lights and then suddenly went screeching around a corner, out of camera view.

"_Though no cameras captured the event, witnesses say that the Ghost Car drove onto the Interstate, went the wrong way and was nearly hit by oncoming semi-trucks. Another car collided with it, and both went off road. By the time police arrived, however, both cars were gone, leaving only tire tracks and stunned witnesses. The car made the local headlines, but did not gain greater attention until early this morning, when it, or a car very much like it, was involved in another incident, almost sixty miles East of the original incident."_

"_A police officer stated that it was all over by the time he and his partner arrived. He stated that the investigation is ongoing, but did say that one person was killed, and the person in the driver's seat was unlicensed. Our reporter on the scene has informed us that the car appeared almost undamaged. If this is indeed the same vehicle from the earlier incident, someone went to the trouble of repairing and repainting it. But things get even more bizarre."_

The image cut to a security camera across the street from the police impound lot. Jack knew what was coming, but gasped anyway when the film showed Bumblebee smashing his way out of the lot, onto the street, careening wildly from side to side.

"_Authorities speculate that someone broke into the lot and stole the car, with the intent of using it in more crimes of the same bizarre nature already witnessed. They request that anyone who sees a vehicle matching the description or license number of this car call them immediately. The mystery remains: who owns the Ghost Car? And what will be their next crime?"_

Fowler clicked off the television.

"There," Fowler grunted, "Satisfied? Your Scout's gone on the war path, Prime. I'm sorry, but he has to go down. If you won't bring him down, then my men will."

"I understand," Optimus said, his voice unusually subdued, his eyes distant, "But I feel there is more to this story than has been revealed. Much more."

"Agreed," Fowler replied, "But that doesn't change the facts. And the facts are that Bumblebee has driven from town to town, leaving chaos and death in his wake. It has got to stop. And it's going to stop right now."


	11. Chapter 11

"What are you looking for?"

Ratchet was too experienced to be surprised by anything Optimus did, and knew his friend and leader too well to suspect him of excessive sentimentality or unwarranted obsession. Thus it was plain to him that Optimus was in the process of actively seeking information.

To the casual observer, he seemed to have been rooted to the spot, carved of marble save for his optics, which scanned every part of the images he was staring at. He had not moved for hours. He had sent Arcee and Bulkhead in search of Bumblebee.

Bumblebee must be stopped and, if possible, brought in. It was clear that Optimus felt his initial sentencing of the Scout had been an error in judgment, but it was unclear whether he felt he had been too severe... or not severe enough.

Optimus had undoubtedly been here all night, in addition to much of the day before, trying to see something, to understand something, to learn _something_.

The situation was bizarre, and also the worst nightmare of any Autobot. Though there seemed to be some question as to whose nightmare it was. Whether it was accidental or intentional, the fact remained. One of their own had killed a member of the human race, and that made them all responsible. Mistake or intent, it should never have happened.

Worse, it hadn't been ended with that one incident. Casualties were starting to pile up, and the reasons were completely obscured by one simple truth: What Bumblebee was doing made no sense.

Even if he had become a killer, something Ratchet was unprepared to believe just yet, Bumblebee was smarter than this. He would never purposely get himself on the news. Aside from the fact that the Autobots would not tolerate his attack on humanity, they also could not permit him to risk exposing them for what they were: alien soldiers come to wage war on Earth itself.

Even the Decepticons opted to keep themselves a secret, it was to their advantage. Humanity could not mount an effective defense against a threat they didn't know existed.

Of all the things Bumblebee might or might not be, he was not a fool. Sometimes reckless, at times naïve, often even cheeky, but never foolish.

Ratchet had stood quietly and listened to Optimus question Raf, asking for specifics of the encounter that he had not requested before. Ratchet knew what was eating at the Autobot leader.

In his haste to avoid a repeat of Megatron, he had condemned Bee before getting all of the facts. It wasn't just unusual, it was practically unheard of. Not once in living memory had Optimus rushed to judgment as he had that day. Ratchet could think of no other circumstance which could have provoked such a response from Optimus Prime.

The death of any human at the hands of a Cybertronian was unacceptable, the mere fact that it had happened inflicted a deep wound in the spark of the Autobot leader. That it had been one of the Autobots that did it made the event all that much worse. One of his soldiers, his ally, as close to kin as he had, had betrayed both him and everything the Autobots stood for in one fell swoop.

With the history between Optimus and Megatron being what it was, it was hardly surprising Optimus saw Megatron in Bumblebee, saw the chameleon changing colors before his eyes, showing ambition and evil intent never before suspected. If only he'd known about Megatron, if only he had been able to see the truth before it was too late... but he hadn't. He had, however, vowed that it would never happen again. Never again would he let sentiment get in the way of logic. Never again would he presume innocence based solely upon friendship.

Ratchet knew Optimus was now asking himself if he'd made a mistake. Had he been too sentimental? Or too quick to condemn an innocent, convinced of the rightness of his actions based upon an event which was long past, one which had in no way involved Bumblebee?

Ratchet knew these things, understood them, but he himself could not abandon all feeling for the Scout. He had failed Bumblebee once before, and it had cost the Scout his voice. He could not force himself to overlook all of the history, all of the unflinching courage, the unfailing nobility which had been displayed by the accused. He could not forget the sacrifices Bumblebee had made, and been willing to make. Nor could he forget how many had fallen, and he could not in good conscience stand by and see their numbers increase needlessly.

Bumblebee was one of the few, the very few, who had survived. There had been times when others died in his stead, so that he might complete his missions, delivering vital intel to soldiers behind enemy lines, running, dodging, denying the desire to fight and avenge comrades for the sake of those still living. To lose him would be to say that those fallen had died in vain, had their sparks extinguished for nothing at all. In that respect, Bumblebee was little different from any of the Autobots. Because others had died, it was their duty to survive, to carry on, to fight on for what others had died to protect.

When Optimus failed to answer Ratchet's question, he asked it again:

"What are you looking for?" he asked, coming to stand beside Optimus, gazing at the grainy film clips as though they might contain some answer he had missed before.

"The truth," Optimus replied, his voice revealing that his mind was miles away, eons even, "The more we learn of what happened then, and what is happening now, the more I feel that we are being manipulated."

"How so?" Ratchet asked.

"I am uncertain. But there are certain facts which do not make sense. We both know that the only time the Bumblebee we know would fail to make sure the vehicle he attacked had no driver was if Raf's life was in direct jeopardy. Only in the exact situation that occurred would he make such a mistake."

"Granted, but that doesn't prove anything," Ratchet said.

"No," Optimus sighed, "It does not. But there is also the disappearance of the vehicle in question. Agent Fowler's theory that Bumblebee may have staged the fight is partially disproved by Rafael's presence. The boy saw what happened, and there was a fight. But it is made most unlikely because of Bumblebee himself. If he was attempting to conceal something he did, why would he then call me to the scene? Why would he admit his actions, without offering context or excuse?"

"Perhaps hoping that your sympathy would outweigh your wrath," Ratchet suggested.

He didn't believe it, nor did Optimus, but the words must be said. They must go over it in detail, they must be sure of what they were thinking. The truth must not be sacrificed to false hopes.

"Bumblebee would not be so foolish. In offering neither explanation nor excuse, he insured his own condemnation, potentially even his execution. That is not the mark of a trickster."

"No it isn't," Ratchet agreed, "It is the mark of a soldier. One of _your_ soldiers."

The words were hurtful, but they had to be spoken because the truth they contained was at the heart of the matter. Up until he was sent away, Bumblebee had acted exactly as an Autobot, displaying the qualities which had made him so valuable to Optimus and the Autobots for so long.

It was possible that the event had led to Bumblebee snapping, led to his actively seeking his own destruction, even at the cost of endangering the lives of those in his vicinity. Possible, but unlikely.

"What do you hope to find in these recordings?" Ratchet asked as the film looped back, started over, going slowly, frame by frame, having captured everything in excruciating detail.

"I don't know," Optimus admitted, "But there is something you can tell me."

"Anything I know, you know that," Ratchet said.

"Look at this image," Optimus pulled up a freeze frame, the clearest image of Bumblebee from the first clip where he launched himself out of a parking lot and into traffic.

Ratchet studied the photo, not sure what he was supposed to be seeing.

"And now this one," Optimus said, pulling another image onto the screen, placing it beside the first.

It was from the second clip, right after Bumblebee smashed through the fence, just before he swerved out onto the street.

"Alright, I'm looking. What am I looking at?" Ratchet asked.

"Remember the news report? The reporter pointed it out."

Ratchet squinted as though that might help him see, then he nodded in understanding.

"Repairs."

"Yes. Bumblebee was badly damaged when I spoke with him. That was still true in the parking lot. But, by the time he had gotten to the impound lot, repairs had been made. Extensive repairs. If you look closely, it's obvious that most of this damage is new."

"He couldn't have made repairs that extensive on his own. A medic would be required."

"Precisely. I know of only two medics available to him on Earth."

"Since it wasn't me, it must have been-"

"Knockout," Optimus finished for him.

"The repairs were incomplete," Ratchet observed, "the damage to the undercarriage is still evident."

"Indeed," Optimus said.

"Even if they were, Cybertronians aren't like Earth vehicles. You can't just plug a leak and expect everything to work as it did before. Even given the repairs, Bumblebee would require rest. He would be weak, and his mind would be clouded. Biologically, he would need time to heal. To rest."

"If we match the times with the locations, it is clear he has done anything but that," Optimus said.

"What was it that witness said?" Ratchet wondered aloud, thinking, "It was like he was being chased?"

"Yes. It would appear Bumblebee was being pursued. The question is: by whom?"

"Considering the amount of damage and potential energon loss, he could be running from a demon of his own creation," Ratchet said.

"Possibly," Optimus said, "But I feel that is unlikely."

"What then?" Ratchet asked.

"I am uncertain," Optimus replied, "But I believe we need to look into this further. We need the rest of the film from that parking lot, and the impound lot. Perhaps we can see who has driven Bumblebee to such extreme behavior. And, perhaps, we may find him to be innocent after all."

Ratchet stared at Optimus, wide-eyed, unsure that he'd heard right.

"You're saying..." he trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

"I no longer believe our Scout killed anyone. At least, not of his own volition," Optimus said, "I believe that he, and everyone else involved, is being manipulated by an as yet unseen hand."

"Decepticons?" Ratchet guessed, "Megatron?"

"Not directly. Perhaps not at all."

"But the repairs-"

"Yes," Optimus interrupted, "But I believe there is a third party. One we have overlooked."

"Who?"

"One we presumed dead. And, in so doing, we may have doomed ourselves."

* * *

For Agent Fowler and the men at his disposal, the baffling part was that the vehicle they hunted had disappeared. They knew where it was headed, but not where it had wound up. Cutting a clear path across the state, it should have been obvious where the yellow muscle car had gone. But it wasn't. A broken guardrail was the only sign of where the car had gone, yellow paint having been scraped off its sides and left on the torn metal of the guardrail. But there was no yellow Urbana 500 at the bottom of the ravine, nor any sign it had ever been there.

With reluctance, Fowler informed Bulkhead and Arcee of the find after his men had moved on.

"He was here," Arcee said, kneeling down to examine the marks of tire treads at the edge of the road while Bulkhead kept lookout.

The last thing they wanted was to be spotted in their robot forms.

"Looks like he hit the brakes hard just before going over the side... no," she hesitated, not understanding what she was seeing, "He _accelerated_."

"Over a cliff?" Bulkhead grunted in some disbelief, "That doesn't make any sense."

Arcee straightened, went to the edge and looked down. The shrubs and scrawny trees scattered on the steep downward slope were untouched, there was no trace of a fall. Because Bumblebee had launched himself. He'd jumped. But to where?

Arcee studied the ground below. There was nowhere to land. If he'd touched down anywhere down there, the trees and brush would be flattened. They knew from Ratchet that Bumblebee wouldn't have been able to transform when he left the police impound lot. He'd crashed through the guardrail, there was no doubt of that. And then... what?

Arcee let a hiss of frustration escape from her. She wanted so badly to find her friend, to prove his innocence, to bring him back. She'd lost so many friends. She wasn't ready to lose Bee too, especially not in such a ridiculous way as this.

She tried to put herself in Bumblebee's place, to try and picture what she might do in his situation. The problem was they didn't know what his situation was. Had the accident made him snap? Had there been damage to his mind as well as his body? If so, then nothing he did would make sense.

And what of his unknown medic? If he was being manipulated somehow, he might not be behaving as himself at all, but instead acting on the instructions of some unseen puppet master. Arcee had trouble buying that. Bumblebee had never been anybody's puppet, his adherence to laws laid down by Optimus was even sometimes sketchy if he thought he had a better idea. Less now than before.

Though Bumblebee had never been especially arrogant or vain, he had been overconfident. Though his loyalty and courage were never in doubt, his judgment had not always been sound and his submission to authority had not been especially noteworthy. He had been known to see the end goal, focus on that and not always be obedient between times. He was a soldier for the Autobot cause, but not always his superiors. It was a thin distinction, but it was one that Arcee suspected had possibly saved his life.

In any case, perhaps someone was trying to secure his cooperation. Trying, and failing.

Arcee looked at the scene with new eyes, now seeing it for what it was. Or what she _thought_ it was.

"Someone was trying to control him," Arcee said, "He knew it. And he knew there was only one way to counter whatever their move was. Take himself off the grid by faking his own insanity and death."

"Bee always was good at dodging the enemy," Bulkhead said.

"I remember," Arcee nodded, "Bee was selected for some of the most dangerous assignments. He was the messenger that could be counted on to get through. Daring, inventive, endlessly resourceful. It was why Megatron went to the trouble of destroying his voice and leaving him to die instead of just blasting him into oblivion. His corpse was meant to be a message. His final one."

"But he survived then," Bulkhead said, "That must have been a burn."

"And he's survived again," Arcee said, "I don't know who or what he was running from. Probably Decepticons, though I wouldn't be too quick to rule out MECH either. But I am certain of one thing: He didn't die here. He's escaped the net that was closing in on him."

"How?" Bulkhead came over to the edge when Arcee pointed.

Halfway down the slope was a narrow ledge.

"He'd have to drive on two wheels to stay on that," Bulkhead observed.

"Yes. But we know he can. We've seen him do it."

"Where would he go from there?" Bulkhead wondered.

"Not far," Arcee shifted into a motorcycle and cruised down the road, Bulkhead following.

The road curved rather sharply to the right. The ledge followed the road. The slope became gradually gentler, and then they spotted the tire tracks in the mud on the other side of the guardrail, nearly obliterated by the earlier rain. But there.

Bumblebee had driven on the ledge, around the corner, then back up to the road. He'd driven alongside it, counting on the rain to erase his tracks (it very nearly had), then probably hopped onto the road as soon as the guardrail disappeared, the muddy tracks his tires left _had_ been erased by the storm.

"So, lemme get this straight," Bulkhead said as they stared at the faint tracks, "Somebody wanted us to think Bee was dead or that he'd gone rogue by eliminating his life signal. Which means someone had their claws on him at some point. But then he did this to make everyone think he was dead."

"Not everyone," Arcee replied, "He had to know one of us would spot that ledge, know it was the only place for him to go. I'm sure he meant for the tracks to be erased, but they're only the proof of what I knew the moment I saw the ledge."

"So he wanted us to know he was alive," Bulkhead grunted.

"More like he didn't care if we knew," Arcee said, "Whatever he's doing, it doesn't matter to him one way or the other what we know."


	12. Chapter 12

"I am relieved to hear it," Optimus said when Arcee finished her report, "It confirms the suspicion... or perhaps the hope... that I had."

"Care to let us in on it?" Arcee asked.

"I do not yet know for certain that it is even possible. Until I have thoroughly reviewed the film Agent Fowler has given us access to, I would prefer not to act upon it, nor even raise false hopes."

"What false hopes?" Arcee snapped, "Neither you nor I believe Bumblebee knowingly hurt anyone."

"False hopes may have been an incorrect term. It would be less hope than fear," Optimus said, "I almost wish I could believe Bumblebee was at fault. That would be preferable to the truth we may be facing."

"What truth?" Arcee demanded, irritated by Optimus' persistent evasion.

"That someone we thought dead long ago, someone not even Megatron himself would accept as a one of his number, may still be alive. And may have followed the war here."

"Who?" Bulkhead asked, the first time he had spoken for awhile, "Anyone we know?"

"He was before your time," Optimus replied, "From a time when a gladiator took the name of Megatronus. His name would mean nothing to you."

"So what's the harm in us hearing it?" Bulkhead asked, shrugging.

"Because it would mean something to me," Optimus said, "I will not say it until I am certain. It will not be long before we know. Even without the film from the parking lot security camera, Bumblebee is acting as a Scout, and will uncover the truth. You knew him in passing during the war on Cybertron, but I knew him well for he served under my command, at times directly. This is not the first time he has faked his own death to gain an advantage... but I had hoped the last time would be the final time. It is no small thing to pretend to be destroyed. Especially when you must lie to those you think of as allies."

"What do you mean?" Arcee asked.

"There were times... too many times... when loyalty was in question. Spies were in the midst of the Autobots. Deception was necessary to ensnare them at times. There were times Bumblebee was called upon to feign disloyalty or even death, in order to capture these most dangerous enemies. I learned only after the fact just how often he was used for this purpose. Too often."

"Often enough that he might start to question his own loyalty?" Arcee asked.

"Often enough that he might begin to question his own identity," Optimus replied.

The war had not been kind to any of those who had served in it. Arcee and Bulkhead knew that. They had thought they knew it better than anyone. Bumblebee was the youngest among them, at times naïve and reckless because of it. But he had spent years serving the Autobot cause, having joined at a younger age than either Arcee or Bulkhead. And one would be ill advised to forget just how much Bumblebee had given, and been willing to give, in service to the Autobots.

"There's a story there," Arcee remarked.

"As with all of us, there are many stories," Optimus replied, "But those stories are for Bumblebee to tell, and it is clear he has no wish to. We all have such stories stored within memory. Old wounds, actions we are ashamed of, tragedies we put behind ourselves in order to continue. Bumblebee is no different."

"Except that he is," Arcee said, "I don't believe it was just your history with Megatron that made you so quick to judge Bumblebee. You never do anything without reason. So, tell us, what was the reason? Why did you condemn Bumblebee without first examining all the facts?"

"If I had not, he would have condemned himself," Optimus pointed out.

"That isn't an answer," Arcee told him.

"Then you're not going to get one," Optimus said, and there was a degree of finality in his tone that said the discussion was well and truly over.

He would say no more about it.

* * *

The fury which burned inside him ran deep, Bumblebee was not sure he would act rationally in any case. His anger found its basis in the fact that the Viper had done more than make him question his sanity. That he could deal with. But the Viper had also caused him to question his own motives, his own thoughts. He had searched himself, seeking what the Viper said he would find. And, naturally, he'd found it. It was within his capacity to become the killer he'd been framed as being.

There was guilt in the realization, shame in the knowledge itself. A killer he could be, a killer he might become. Already he had killed soldiers, but that was different. He knew that, had always known that. Killing in self defense or the defense of your own was no sin. But he had it within him to do far, far worse. And that was a truth about himself he was not prepared to contemplate. Not again.

It was a box filled with darkness, one he'd peered inside once before... and been both frightened and appalled by what he'd found. The Viper had known just what to say, as though he really was Bumblebee's own private demon, his own darkness come to haunt him.

In war, a soldier does things. Things he takes no pride in. Things which give him no pleasure. Things he would never do on his own. Or so he tells himself. But Bumblebee knew that there was something far worse to be seen in the truth. War did not create evil and darkness but, in its presence, the facade of civilized, innocent people was stripped away. Soldiers did not become something other than what they were, but they could reach deep, access parts of themselves they might otherwise have denied, open doors which were best left closed, unleashing demons from within which would ravage their world, and their souls. Once those doors were opened, they could never be closed; the voices within the darkened recesses beyond them never silenced. Once aware of those doors, it became a conscious struggle to stay away from them, and to become deaf to the malevolent nature lurking just beneath the surface.

The Viper had reminded Bumblebee of this truth, and he resented it.

He was also angry, and disappointed in himself for letting it happen. Because he believed it was his own voice speaking to him, he had responded and, in so doing, potentially stepped through into the darkness within his own spark. But he could do nothing about himself except for cease thinking along the presented lines. He could lash out only at the Viper, if he could find the beast.

Who was the Viper? His objective was obvious, but what were his motives? What ends did he seek with the means of Bumblebee's self-propelled insanity?

No. Not self-propelled. The Viper had been attempting to twist his thoughts, and had nearly succeeded. Yes, it would be on Bumblebee's head if he had allowed it to happen, but he hadn't started this. He'd been attacked, and hadn't realized it at first. Now he did, and it was time to fall back upon his instincts, experience and training. To find the weaknesses of the enemy, and to stop them. Or, if necessary, reported to those who could finish it for him.

He didn't think in terms of human television and radio programs, it didn't occur to him that he might have made the news. Even if it had, it was a resource he had no access to. Not unless he turned his radio back on. Give the Viper access to him, make it known he had survived.

So instead he lay in wait at the scene of his "death", to see who came looking for him. And how. The how was very important. How they were looking would tell him their motives for doing so.

A lot of humans showed up first. Bumblebee wasn't sure who they were initially, until he noticed Agent Fowler. Fowler was hunting for him, and he had a lot of firepower behind him. At least by human standards. Some of Bee's exploits must have become public, or at least human, knowledge. Fowler was hunting him, with the intent to kill. With still secret military technology, and a working knowledge of the Autobots, Fowler could be trying a lot harder. He was working hard enough to make his superiors look good and feel content, but not hard enough to actually find, capture and destroy Bumblebee. Why not? Because he didn't want to? Or because he was letting Optimus get ahead of him? The Autobots had to be searching for Bumblebee, if only to keep human contact to a minimum. Optimus would never sit back and watch while humans hunted for Cybertronians. It was too dangerous. For the humans.

Bumblebee was right. Not long after Fowler called off the investigation of the area, Arcee and Bulkhead arrived. They moved swiftly, efficiently, but they weren't keeping an eye out for Bumblebee. They were watching for human interference, and possibly Decepticon activity as well. Fowler might believe Bumblebee was dead, Arcee wouldn't until she saw the body. She'd lost too many friends, and believed many more were lost before being sure. She would never believe anyone was dead until their body lay before her. And she was sharp enough to put the scene together. To _know_ what happened.

He watched as Arcee and Bulkhead unraveled the scene, discovering what had really happened. Arcee didn't miss anything. She tried to pretend differently, she and Bulkhead both. But Bumblebee knew what they'd seen. Yet both of them behaved as though they'd found no evidence of Bumblebee's survival. Bumblebee knew why.

Arcee believed she had an audience, and she was playing to it. Though she wasn't fooling Bee, she was sending a clear signal: the obvious hunt was being called off. Either they would quit searching for him, or merely go about it with greater subtlety than before.

Bumblebee had the feeling Arcee wasn't playing for him though. For someone else. Bumblebee expected at least one more party to come and look at the scene of his demise. The only party he was interested in. Decepticons. They had to be behind this. So he didn't recognize the Viper. So what? A fresh paint job, a few alterations by Knockout, scanning a new vehicle mode, and voila, a new and unrecognizable Decepticon with a damaged voice synthesizer is born.

The deception was made easier by the fact that the Viper never left its vehicle form. It was easy to get new and different vehicle modes. Well, perhaps not easy, but entirely doable. An exceptionally skilled Decepticon could probably even fake the damage to the voice box.

Bumblebee was hoping that there was at least one Decepticon observing the scene. In fact, he was counting on it. If the Viper didn't show, preferably in company of another Decepticon, Bumblebee knew he would be faced once again with that crippling feeling of self doubt.

The Viper could just be a demon of his own making, from the pits of his own darkest thoughts. It was a possibility he could not discount. But he couldn't will the Viper away, he'd already tried. If the Viper was conjured up from the deep well of his imagination and nightmares, there was nothing he could do.

Bumblebee had learned long ago that you could only worry about what you saw, heard and felt. What you believed was real. You couldn't stop and worry about whether something was or was not what you thought it was. Not that you shouldn't take a step back and think about it before acting. That was what had led him here, after all.

He'd thought he was seeing things, acted on that assumption. But when he took a step back, it became clear that what he thought was real might not be.

However, when it came time to act, you couldn't let uncertainty make you hesitate. You had to act on what you knew, or thought you knew, because you couldn't function in a reality you were not aware of.

And so Bumblebee shoved all thoughts of self doubt onto the back burner of his mind. He had a theory, and all he needed was evidence to support it. All he needed was proof.

Bumblebee was parked at the edge of a switchback road, looking down. He had a good view of the place he'd gone off the road. That had, in fact, been his intent at the time. He had not jumped blindly or without thought. He wasn't invisible, but he couldn't be seen from below hardly at all. He was only vaguely concerned about being spotted from above.

He could hear anything coming over the mountain behind him, and could see anything coming from the opposite direction. There wasn't much in the way of cover, but he could slide onto the road and casually join in with the other drivers who were out today.

On this road, at this time of day there were basically two kinds of vehicle. Semi-trucks and sports cars. This road didn't make a fun afternoon drive unless you enjoyed testing the limits of your vehicle in the most dangerous way possible. As an Urbana 500, Bumblebee was just the sort of car you might try to careen wildly uphill with.

He was far from being unrecognizable, but yellow with black trim wasn't uncommon for Urbana 500s. The real key to going unnoticed was going to be his driving pattern. He needed to steer like something alive was piloting something that wasn't alive. He needed to move like a machine rather than a living being. If he could succeed in that, he could avoid drawing direct attention to himself. So long as he was only getting casually glanced at, he could be taken for an Earth vehicle.

Hiding in plain site. He'd done it before.

The key was to adopt the manner and movement of whatever you were pretending to be. By moving with the cautious arrogance of a Decepticon, Bumblebee had waltzed right into some heavily guarded bases during the war on Cybertron. And more than once he'd played the corpse among dead comrades to stay alive. Stealth wasn't all about running from one bit of cover to another. The real game of stealth was played when you were trying to blend in, to hide in plain sight.

A few minutes after the Autobots departed, Bumblebee noticed the approach of a vehicle he recognized. It was Knockout. Bumblebee wasn't surprised. He'd suspected the Decepticon medic's involvement as soon as he'd begun to entertain the idea that what was happening wasn't all in his head.

Knockout was one who could never blend in. Even if he could feign being lifeless, his excessive preening would give him away. He was too polished, too precisely detailed. While someone must exist who cared for their car as much as Knockout cared for himself, they were an exceedingly rare breed. Even the biggest car fanatic wasn't as obsessive as Knockout himself.

The strange thing was that Knockout appeared to be alone. Vain as he was, Knockout was every bit as valuable to Megatron as he presented himself to be. As a Decepticon, it was typically in his line to demolish rather than repair, but he _was_ skilled at both. What was he doing out here alone?

Bumblebee felt a twinge of suspicion and curbed his first instinct, which was to back away, to leave immediately. He couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until he knew. Not until he saw the Viper.

Still, he knew something was amiss. Something was terribly wrong with this picture. The only time Knockout went out alone was when he went for a pleasure drive (in other words, went out provoking unwitting humans into racing him). This was no pleasure drive. This was purposeful.

Knockout transformed at the verge and peered over the edge of the cliff. He scowled, as though the idea of any vehicle going over the edge and ruining its finish in such a way was a personal affront to him. Say what you would about Knockout, he did have a certain appreciation for fine vehicle modes.

One might almost say a sick affinity for them.

Bumblebee hoped Knockout was less perceptive than Arcee. If any Decepticon was likely to know Bumblebee's capabilities, it was Knockout, if only because he had such knowledge of Cybertronian physiology as well as Earth vehicles. It was possible he could deduce Bumblebee's abilities from that knowledge alone. But Knockout showed no interest in the ledge, instead peering downward with a baffled expression on his face. Finally, he shrugged indifferently and turned away.

He spoke, apparently into a radio, but Bumblebee was too far away to hear. He expected Knockout was reporting that he'd found nothing at the scene. Why had Knockout come here? Why not the Viper? The Viper was the one Bumblebee wanted, the only one who interested him.

Something wasn't right. He was missing something. He clearly had something backwards or upside down. He mentally ran over everything he'd seen and heard in the last couple of days, scrambling for the missing piece, trying to put the puzzle together. He was close to an answer, so close.

A low, mechanical whirring noise emanating from just below put some of the mystery to rest. Knockout was not alone as he seemed to be. Bumblebee looked around quickly, searching only points above or equal to his own in height, looking for Knockout's backup.

He didn't spot Soundwave before Laserbeak popped up directly in front of him. Knockout turned, looked up, and then transformed and started up the road in Bumblebee's direction.

_{Scrap,} _he hissed under his breath.

Knockout and Soundwave were both out? Something big must be going on. Both of them generally preferred to work from inside, both were valuable enough that having them in the field wasn't typically worth the risk it presented. Bumblebee didn't have time to think it over.

He switched gears and went into reverse, turned sharply until he was on the road and then shot forward. There was no reason to try and hide, he'd been identified by Soundwave at once. That was an unexpected wrinkle. He supposed he should have anticipated it.

But he hadn't, and now he had to run for his life.


	13. Chapter 13

Bumblebee knew he could not survive a prolonged chase. Aside from his damaged state, he could not (even on his best day) hope to outrun Soundwave. It was even unlikely that he could outsmart the Decepticon. Though officially billed as a communications officer, Soundwave was a brilliant tactician, and had once been a gladiator in the pits of Kaon. It was a resume Bumblebee could not compete with, except with either backup or sheer luck. He had none of the former, and had seen little of the latter.

He could outrun Knockout, though perhaps not in his present state. But Knockout wasn't trying to run him down. Checking his mirrors, Bumblebee saw the red 'Con hanging back, staying out of any danger zone but not losing sight of the quarry.

Soundwave would doubtlessly cut Bumblebee off as soon as he caught up, and Knockout would prevent him from turning around. But knowing the strategy that was in place wouldn't save him now. He had mere seconds to work with before Soundwave made the flight from his perch to the switchback.

Laserbeak was already hovering over Bumblebee's head, keeping pace but not attempting to overtake him. Bumblebee knew why. Soundwave was protective of Laserbeak. Bumblebee might try to ram his way through the flying nuisance. That was risk Soundwave was unwilling to take as it wasn't necessary.

What Bumblebee needed was to get down into the valley below. There were trees, a forest, which would prevent Soundwave from seeking him from the air. And Knockout wouldn't dream of off-roading. He wouldn't risk his fancy paint job. But how to get down there in one piece? It wasn't as though Bumblebee could just dive off the edge of the mountain road and free fall to the ground. That was suicide.

If he tried turning around, Knockout would try to block him. But when it came to the game of chicken, Knockout was one who often flinched first. It was less cowardice than vanity, as it would ruin his finish to be in a crash, and that was one thing he could not stand risking.

Cowardice, vanity, pride, distrust, deceit. It mattered not what the weakness was. To survive, one had to exploit the weaknesses of the enemy, and cover the weaknesses of their ally. Such was the law of war as both Autobot and Decepticon alike understood it. Sometimes, at the darkest times, it seemed the only thing that made the Autobots different was where they drew the line.

But the truth was far more complex. It was a matter of objective. Bumblebee knew that, when it came right down to it, he'd do anything to protect Earth and whatever was left of Cybertron. There was no line he would not cross. And that scared him.

Bumblebee knew his limits. In his present condition, he could not risk higher speed. Not for long anyway. He had to get off this road, out of range, preferably beyond sight as well. To the right rose the steep mountainside, the road cut back and forth along it, a sharp turn would bring the sharply descending cliff side around to Bumblebee's right. It was presently on his left, and he could see the ground dropping ever farther away. He had to act. To do something.

He saw a gentler slope up ahead, uncomfortably close to the sharp turn to the right. He slowed as he approached the turn, as though he meant to make it. Laserbeak slid ahead of him, the opportunity to cut Bumblebee off here outweighed the risk. It was exactly what Bumblebee wanted.

If he'd sped up, Laserbeak would have swooped down, blocking his path of descent. He'd have been forced to stop. The slope was too steep to risk hitting anything on the way down. To do so would be to find himself in an endless, deadly spin all the way to the bottom.

But slowing down gave the impression he meant to turn. He was counting on the Decepticons being in a hurry to capture him. If they had unlimited time to devote to this chase, Soundwave would prolong it in an effort to minimize the risks to himself and those he was working with. But there was obviously some sort of time pressure going on. Soundwave was willing to take a risk because he feared the reward would either slip out of his grasp or evade him for long enough that it ceased to matter.

Perhaps they were worried about giving Bumblebee time to think. Worried that he might realize the Viper was not just a voice in his head, but a figure from reality. Perhaps that was why the Viper failed to appear. If he showed up, the charade would be ended. But there was another possibility, one Bumblebee didn't even want to consider but couldn't put out of his mind for some reason. The Viper might not even be real.

Damaged, in shock, suffering energon loss, wasn't it possible Bumblebee was hallucinating? No. He couldn't think like that. He wouldn't be able to function if he continued to dwell on that theory.

Hitting the accelerator, Bumblebee launched himself into space. He didn't hit the guardrail, instead leaping over it. He hung in the air for a breathless instant, then dropped like a stone from the sky. Air whistled past him and he tried not to cringe in anticipation of the impact.

He had not miscalculated. It would have been so easy to hit the ground with his front wheels first. They could have dug into the soil, forcing his momentum to take a new direction, flipping him onto his roof, which would have then carried him sliding downhill like a turtle on its back, helpless and vulnerable.

But his rear tires touched down first, a loud crunch telling of the crushing impact. Fortunately, most of the noise was the brush he'd landed on, not himself. Above and behind, Laserbeak screeched, wheeled and tried to pursue him. The sound of brakes squealing told of Knockout coming to an abrupt halt. The Decepticon peered down after Bee, swearing to himself.

Knockout would not take the risk Bee just had. But Laserbeak was in hot pursuit, skimming low over the broken ground as Bumblebee careered wildly down the slope towards the pines below.

Bumblebee's descent was something less than a straight line. He dared not touch the brakes, lest he slide or flip as a result. But he did apply an amount of steering, making split-second corrections to prevent himself from crashing into rocks, brush or trees. He had to get all the way to the bottom, and then keep going until he slowed down enough that he could safely stop on his own without taking damage or losing all control of himself.

Laserbeak flew low overhead, swooping and diving but never quite touching down on Bee. There was nothing that could stop him, and it was evident Soundwave sought to take him alive. A mere brush of a wingtip on the part of Laserbeak would send Bee spinning, and the fall really would kill him this time.

_Why do they want me alive? Don't they know I've figured it out, that I know they're trying to manipulate me? Their mission has failed, they have nothing to gain by keeping me alive._

Unless he was wrong. Unless they weren't working with Viper at all. Unless Viper wasn't even real...

_Stop it!_

He swept in among the trees, and outstretched branches clawed at him, scraping paint off his sides. Laserbeak stopped at the tree line, swept in a circle, but did not follow. There was no point. Laserbeak could not move swiftly enough when low to the ground to keep Bee in sight, and he would be out of view of anyone above the treeline. The chase was lost. But the hunt was far from over.

Bumblebee saw Laserbeak break off to the right, and knew Soundwave must be closing from the left. There wasn't a way out of the forest. Behind, the frowning mountain rose. Up ahead, some distance through the trees, there rose another scowling cliff side. Shorter than the one he was presently descending, but tall and steep enough that he couldn't drive up it.

If he turned to the left, he'd be back on the road where he'd faked his death. To the right lay a vast stretch of emptiness. Nowhere to hide in that direction. Not once he'd left the trees. There was no way out. He had just sealed his own fate. He could hide in the forest for a time, but not indefinitely.

Now he was cornered, Soundwave would undoubtedly request more soldiers to aid in the hunt. They would hunt him down in a methodical way, finding him swiftly. And then what? What did they want him for? That he did not know, could not fathom.

_One thing at a time. Buy yourself time. An opportunity will present itself if you just get yourself enough time. You will not be caught. Never again. Never. Again._

Bumblebee failed to swerve around a mass of heavy brush growing between boulders. He bottomed out, light flashed in front of his optics, blinding him as he continued his headlong rush, the brush slashing at his damaged undercarriage, clawing viciously as though seeking his life blood, energon.

_Just make it to the bottom in one piece. One step at a time. The whole puzzle is too big, too complex for you to solve all at once. Just take one section at a time. Find the piece that fits here, worry about the rest later. One piece at a time. You'll get there._

The terrain leveled out, and Bumblebee made a sharp turn to the right, then left, then right, slowed to a roll and then came to a complete halt sideways to his descent. He looked to his right, at the mountain he'd just driven down. Now there was something no human would have attempted in any vehicle, much less an expensive muscle car. He was a little (or maybe a lot) worse for wear, but Cybertronians were tough. He was in one piece. He'd made it to the bottom and was still alive.

Knockout did not follow. He was out of Bumblebee's line of sight, but Bee knew the Decepticon would not attempt to follow. More than his obsession with his own physical beauty, Knockout knew that the slope was not meant for driving, especially not by the type of vehicle he happened to be. It was no reasonable course for Bee either, but he had seen no other choice.

Given a choice between a deadly cliff and capture by the Decepticons, Bee would take the former any time. To be in the hands of the Decepticons was to suffer pain and anguish and then slowly die as the 'Cons attempted to pry whatever they wanted from your dying husk.

At least death via dropping from a lethal height was quick and there was no risk that your tongue would be loosened enough that you would give away vital secrets. Bee himself had managed to resist the urge to speak when he was captured, but only barely.

Had Megatron only known how close he'd come to breaking Bumblebee... things would be very different now. But there was no prize for close. Bumblebee had won that round and, in this deadly game, there was no second place.

Bumblebee's silence had won him something more valuable than life itself. He had a reputation. He would not break under pressure. There was no purpose in questioning him. If he was captured, he would be terminated or left alone, because it was known there was no torture he could not endure. Whether that was true or not was irrelevant. He had bought absolution. Secrets were safe with him.

His superiors during the war on Cybertron had known that, and so did Megatron. He could be told anything, and no one would ever pry the information from him.

Unfortunately, it gave him fewer options in the event of capture. An enemy soldier who could not be broken was dead the moment he was captured. Given no time. Without time, there was no chance of escape. He must not be caught. Never again.

Soundwave must know there was no point in taking him alive. But neither the communications chief nor the medic had attempted to kill Bee. They wanted him alive. But why?

_Stop thinking about it! Find a way out of this mess!_

The soldier within was right. This was not a time to think about motives. This was a time to think about escape. It was an equally difficult problem. Contrary to popular belief, a soldier must be intelligent, often more intelligent than an academic. A scholar had all the time in the world to think, the soldier's actions must be swift and sure. And there was no margin for error. To make a mistake was to die.

There must be no mistakes.

_{Hello, Scout,}_ the radio was off but, somehow, the Viper was still there.

And that meant one thing. The Viper was in his head. The Viper was not real. And if the Viper was not real, then there could be no survival. The battle was lost. There was no second place, and the cost of losing was life itself. Bumblebee had lost. There was no way out.

* * *

"Pit Viper? I thought he was just a story, a myth created by tired soldiers to amuse each other," Arcee said, "He's a real Decepticon?"

The image on the screen was a frozen instant in the parking lot Bumblebee had fled, it had captured the distant image of a green car with black trim. It was indistinct, the vehicle was too far from the camera to be seen clearly, but Optimus had identified it anyhow.

"His legend is likely far from reality," Optimus replied in a grave voice, "But not far enough."

"So who is he really?" Bulkhead inquired, "I mean, I heard about him, but half of the stories couldn't be true and the other half couldn't have been witnessed by any Autobot."

"Pit Viper was one of the first to come to Megatronus' side, second only to Soundwave. Pit Viper was not his true name, but it was the one he took up when he became a gladiator. He knew he was to be forged in Kaon. He knew he was going to become something other. He shed the skin of his old life, whatever it might have been, and became one of the most treacherous beings in Cybertron's history."

"Already heard that tale," Arcee said, crossing her arms impatiently, "Tell me something I don't already know."

"Pit Viper was Megatron's first second-in-command, and perhaps the only Decepticon besides Megatron that Soundwave ever answered to. He was most valued for his strategic skills, noted as being a master manipulator. He bent many Cybertronians to Megatron's iron will, and even secured the cooperation of Autobots, turning them into spies for Megatron's cause. Sometimes without their even knowing about it. But then a young air commander discovered that Pit Viper had ambition of his own, that he plotted to overthrow Megatron and take the Decepticon army for himself. He went to Megatron, and convinced him of the truth. That commander was Starscream."

"That explains how he came to be Megatron's second," Bulkhead commented.

"Megatron found Pit Viper, and beat the truth out of him, whereupon he was left for dead. He has not been seen or heard from since. It was said that, though he survived the wrath of Megatron, Pit Viper was found and killed by someone he had manipulated into assisting him, possibly an Autobot."

"But he's not dead, is he?" Arcee asked, "He's here, on Earth. But what does he want?"

"He cannot be here," Optimus shook his head vehemently, "He cannot be alive."

"So what are we looking at? An imposter?" Bulkhead asked, but Optimus shook his head.

"No one would be foolish enough to imitate the most hated Cybertronian in recent memory."

"Then what? A ghost?" Arcee demanded, trying to sound like she was joking, but unable to for there seemed to be truth in the theory, "What makes you so sure he's really dead?"

"Because I was the one who killed him," Optimus replied.


	14. Chapter 14

Trembling, Bumblebee sat beneath the tree branches, trying to sort out his racing thoughts. He'd been so sure the Viper was real, had put all hope on that one fact. But now he was faced with no other alternative than to think the Viper really was somehow part of him.

He could not escape from it.

_{Are you afraid, Scout? You should be.}_

Afraid of what? The Decepticons? He had no reason to fear them. Not anymore. Things might actually be better if they caught him. Then his death would not be laid at the feet of the Autobots. He supposed he should have committed suicide that night. He'd come close. Why hadn't he?

Was he too proud? He'd thought he was too intelligent, but his theory had just been shot down. He must have known somewhere inside. After all, if the Viper was a thing of himself, he must surely know that. So pride was the only explanation. He refused to die that way. But, if that was true, why did it feel like this? When did truth start feeling dirty, like a lie?

_Stop it!_

He shook himself, taking stock of his circumstances. To remain in place would be the same as committing suicide. It would be killing himself. He had to at least try escaping.

_{Are you hiding from yourself, Scout?}_

The oddly timed remark unsettled Bee in a way he couldn't entirely comprehend. He supposed he couldn't expect the Viper, a figment of his imagination, to necessarily be aware of reality as he was. Unless, perhaps... he had it all wrong.

Suddenly he had the overwhelming sense that he was still in the police parking lot. That he'd never driven out here, never crashed through the guardrail, that the Decepticons weren't really there, that maybe his subconscious was attempting to tell him he only had one demon to fear, and that was the one inside, the one he could not escape.

_Great Cybertron, stop that! Get hold of yourself!_

Bumblebee knew he wasn't able to cope with the emotional and psychological sea he'd been plunged into. He felt like he was drowning, and had no lifeline. But he did have an escape. It was something he had learned on Cybertron, and hoped never to do again.

He set himself aside. Future, past, neither had any bearing on the moment. The mission was all that existed, nothing and no one else mattered. It didn't matter who got hurt in the process, so long as the goal was accomplished. It was the only way to survive when your friends were dying, the only way to force yourself to run from a fight when you had a message to deliver.

_Forget right and wrong, forget want, forget hopes and dreams, forget friends, forget living itself. Focus on but one thing, the only thing. Become the soldier again. And not just any soldier, the one you left behind. The one which lives within. Become cold as space, be free. Survive._

In human terms, it was called becoming an animal, using animal instinct. Cybertron had no such comparison. Therefore, their term for it was probably more accurate: become Death, Darkness itself. It had less to do with feral beasts, and more to do with inner demons.

For, once the demon was unleashed, sometimes it could not be put back. Bumblebee knew that. He knew it, understood it better than anyone. But it was the only course open to him. Kill. Survive.

_{Alright, Viper. You wanted to wake the demon, you've got it.}_

His engine roared to life, and the Scout launched himself out of hiding. Now he'd laid aside his inner turmoil, his questions, his uncertainty, now he had a way out. He knew how to survive.

* * *

"Great Cybertron! What does that crazy Scout think he's doing?!"

Knockout had been confronted with more surprises this day than he cared to count, beginning with Megatron's summons. Megatron was not one to speak of specific instances in the past, his focus was upon the future at all times, a future where he would be revered and exalted by all.

But this morning, he had called Knockout and Soundwave together. He had spoken of ancient history, history Soundwave was doubtlessly already aware of. Knockout had heard of the legendary Pit Viper, of course. Who hadn't? But half the stories were purest nonsense.

Most dealt solely with Megatron's response to finding a traitor among his men. Starscream had often boasted his own part in the story, but nobody really believed it had been him alone who'd seen through Pit Viper's treachery. Surely Megatron must have had suspicions of his own. He was too intelligent to be fooled, as Pit Viper's tale often reminded Megatron's soldiers.

Knockout was most interested not by the many stories of Pit Viper's tactical and combat capabilities, but by the fact that Pit Viper was not just a fighter, but also a skilled medic of a sort. He did not practice healing, even on the limited level that Knockout did. But he did know where the weak spots on the body were, he knew how to exploit them. And he knew how to manipulate thought and perception through physical condition. He was a torturer of the highest order, and it was said that he had once convinced a wounded Autobot that they were on the same side, just by saying the right words in the right way to play upon the other's weakness. That Autobot could have shot him dead, but didn't. It was said that Pit Viper had later revisited this moment of weakness in conversation with the Autobot, a form of blackmail Knockout had never entirely understood.

Because the Autobot had failed to shoot him once, and had succumbed to his lies, they felt that there was no alternative but for them to obey him. It took great mental agility to twist a mind like that, and then to maintain control over both time and distance.

Pit Viper was from a time before the cortical psychic patch, and his ability to acquire information and to secure cooperation from the enemy must have been invaluable. It was a shame he had let his ambition lead him to destruction. He seemed too smart for that, at least from the stories. And far too intelligent to be caught by Starscream, of all Decepticons.

This morning, Megatron had admitted that he had not actually killed Pit Viper, merely left him helpless and in pieces. He should have died, unless someone had saved him for some unfathomable reason. Stripped of his power within the Decepticon ranks, nearly dead, he no longer had any hold over anyone. And no one loved him, no one was sad to see him go. But he had survived that day.

Megatron was sure of it, and convinced that Pit Viper was now on Earth. He was doing something with the Autobot Scout, though it was unclear what.

"Given enough time, he could gain enough power to kill us all," Megatron had said, "He must not have that time. Bring me the Autobot Scout, he is our conduit to Pit Viper."

But then it had become obvious the Scout was dead. Knockout and Soundwave had gone to the scene, examined it. The Scout could not have survived the fall, much less remained functional and relatively intact. But Soundwave had spotted him on a ridge. Impossibly, the Scout lived. Many impossible things in one day. Too many.

Pit Viper alive, on Earth. The Scout surviving a deadly fall, now evading capture, making a suicidal leap, and now breaking from cover. It didn't make any kind of sense to Knockout.

From his place above, Knockout could see the Scout driving hard from under the cover of the trees. Knockout winced. That speed on the rocky, muddy ground was murder on the treads. And the engine. The Autobot must be truly desperate to be going to such lengths.

Soundwave swept around from the North, Laserbeak had already closed on the Autobot. The Scout could not transform, and therefore could not fire on anyone. He was helpless, harmless even. Or so it would seem. But the Scout was resourceful.

Using the rocky ground to his advantage, the Scout actually leaped and collided with Laserbeak. They went down together in a squealing tangle of tearing metal, the Scout landing atop Laserbeak with a crunch, then whirling to face the oncoming Soundwave. Knockout could hear the growling of the Scout's engine from here. And suddenly he realized that the fight was not theirs.

"Soundwave, get out of there! He's going to rush you!" Knockout yelled into his radio, "The fool is going to try and hit you head on!"

The yellow car lunged forward, abandoning all caution in favor of speed. In a head on collision, Bumblebee was better suited to survive than Soundwave was. Even so, it was an insane tactic. It was the same type of move as his earlier plunge down the mountainside. Chances of survival were slim, it was the act of one who had no other means of escape. It was also the action of one who would not be taken alive. The desire for escape outweighed the need to survive.

Soundwave made a shrieking sound as he attempted to pull up too sharply. The Autobot didn't give him the space or the time, the front bumper of the car slammed into the underbelly of the drone, knocking both from the air. The car hit the brakes as soon as its tires touched down, coming to a squealing halt as the drone smashed into the ground and spun wildly.

Soundwave's only defense was to transform, a thing he did with quick precision, in spite of the dizzying circumstances. He fell on one knee, clutching the ground in one clawed hand. Knockout could almost believe that the faceless Decepticon was glaring at Bumblebee.

The car's engine growled, a wordless threat. But he did not transform. He could not. This was a fight which had belonged to the Decepticons from the start, and the Scout was only delaying the inevitable.

Knockout looked around for a quick way down, but he knew there wasn't one. That was why he had not rejoined the chase. It would be over by the time he could get down. He wasn't about to do what the Scout had done. He still couldn't entirely believe the Scout had survived that.

Soundwave sidled around the car, which turned to face him as he moved. For a moment, Knockout wasn't sure what Soundwave was doing. Then he realized. Soundwave was heading for his precious Laserbeak, reduced now to a pile of crumpled metal and sparking cables.

Suddenly, the Scout launched himself forward, driving directly on top of Laserbeak and coming to a halt, growling menacingly. There were few things in life Soundwave cherished, Laserbeak was one of those things. He would not see Laserbeak destroyed.

_{I'll tear this fly on the wall to shreds,}_ the Scout's basic speech carried unusually clearly through Soundwave's radio to Knockout's, _{Believe it.}_

Soundwave, of course, said nothing. But his silence appeared to mean something to the Scout.

_{I will not be taken alive. Never again. And I don't care who or what I take with me.}_

Soundwave reached an abrupt decision. Transforming, he took to the air. He was calling off the hunt. For now. Here and now, the Scout would die before they caught him. If he did, then they would learn nothing. And Laserbeak would have been destroyed in vain.

_Unbelievable,_ Knockout thought, _Two Decepticons bested by a single Autobot in vehicle mode. Well, congratulations, Scout. But this victory of yours is only temporary. We have our orders, and you would appear to have nowhere to go._

* * *

"When you say you killed him," Arcee said slowly, carefully maintaining an even tone, "Do you mean you were responsible, or that you were there and pulled the trigger yourself?"

"I wasn't there, but I did give the order, which was then carried out," Optimus replied, his tone also even, carefully neutral.

"How sure are you? Could the one who did it have been mistaken? Or could they have lied to you?"

"You tell me," Optimus said, "It was Cliffjumper who pulled the trigger."

Arcee blinked, and there was a distinct pause before she was able to find her voice.

"Cliff never mentioned that."

"It was not a thing to be proud of, just what had to be," Optimus told her.

"Explain that," Arcee's voice became suddenly cold, as it always did when her dead partners were concerned.

Optimus said nothing, clearly lost in memory. Ratchet, who had been silent until now, took up the story.

"The first thing you have to understand is that this was a very dark period in the war."

"All of it was dark, what of it?" Arcee hissed impatiently.

"Early on, the Autobot army was not especially well organized. We were not soldiers then, not like the Decepticons. Megatron had been preparing for war, we had been trying to avoid it."

"So what?" Arcee asked.

"If you'll stop interrupting, I'll tell you," Ratchet snapped, "Now. It had become clear to us that not everyone could be trusted, but the war had not yet dragged on long enough for close bonds to have been forged. There was a lot of distrust in those days, especially with Pit Viper planting seeds of doubt in the minds of the young and naïve. And there were also those he could blackmail into cooperating. Some he even flat turned against their own."

He hesitated, took a breath, then went on.

"When Megatron cast him out, it became a top priority to find Pit Viper, to end him for sure. We knew it could be a trick, a deception. But, if it wasn't, there would never be a better opportunity to slay the master manipulator. If he survived, it was possible he might try to buy his way back into the Decepticon ranks. If anyone could, Pit Viper would be that one. It was an opportunity we could not afford to waste."

When he stopped, Bulkhead and Arcee exchanged glances. Bulkhead shrugged.

"Okay. So what happened?"

"Pit Viper was injured, disarmed, in hiding," Optimus took up the story now, "Utterly defenseless. Assuming anyone could find him. I gave the order. Anyone who found him was to shoot on sight."

Arcee closed her eyes, bowed her head. Now she understood. The order had been to murder. It was something no Autobot wanted on their conscience. To kill was one thing, but to murder one who was defenseless... that would haunt them to the grave.

"No wonder Cliff never mentioned it," Arcee said, her voice suddenly weak, "Are you... no. Of course you're sure. He said he did it, and that means he did."

"Arcee, there was no shame in the action. Not then," Optimus said, "No matter how it seems. Pit Viper had to be taken before he could gain power. And he would have. Many lives had already been lost to his lies and twisted half truths. More could not be allowed to go in the same way. Cliffjumper understood that. Everyone who was assigned to the hunt understood it."

"I know," Arcee whispered, not looking up, "But... I never knew. He never said."

"Cliffjumper was very likely ashamed of what he'd done. He knew it was necessary, but that did not prevent him from feeling guilt. He was a good soldier, and what he had done felt wrong. It ate at him, anyone could see that," Ratchet commented, "The only thing that helped was time. And distance."

"Is that how he wound up as my partner?" Arcee asked.

"Part of the reason," Optimus admitted.

"But if Cliffjumper offed Pit Viper... who is it that's chasing Bee now?" Bulkhead asked, gesturing towards the computer screen with the damnable image of the deceased on it.

"I am no longer certain events were as they were reported," Optimus said.

"What are you saying?" Arcee asked, fury and fear equally measured in her voice, "If Cliff said he killed Pit Viper, that must be what happened."

"Unless Pit Viper, the great deceiver, convinced him of something that wasn't true," Ratchet theorized.

"How?" Bulkhead asked.

"Perhaps the same way Bumblebee did. Only more convincingly," Arcee said, thinking aloud, "What did Cliff say happened? _Exactly_ what did he see and do?"

"What does it matter now?" Ratchet asked, "Clearly Pit Viper is alive. That's all we need to know."

"No!" Arcee snapped, "It isn't all we need to know. It isn't all_ I_ need to know. I need to know the truth. Cliff was my friend. I need to know the truth."

"Easy, Arcee," Bulkhead said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "First things first. Right now, we need to know how to help Bee. The past can wait."


	15. Chapter 15

Panting, shaking to the core, Bumblebee couldn't believe he was still free, still alive. The Decepticons really _did_ want him alive. He was tempted to destroy Laserbeak while he had the chance, but that would be stupid. Spare the falcon, and perhaps its master might be lenient at some future time. Guaranteed Soundwave would tear the Earth apart to get him if he destroyed Laserbeak.

After the Decepticons had disappeared from view, he reluctantly let Laserbeak go, as Soundwave had known that he would. There was no other sane choice. Assuming anything he did was sane.

_{Run away, Scout. Run and hide, but you can't escape forever.}_

* * *

"Where would he go?" Knockout wondered aloud, turning in place, taking in the trees and steep mountains on three sides, the wasteland stretching away in the final direction.

Soundwave was preoccupied with Laserbeak. Even if he hadn't been, he wouldn't have answered. He never had. Immensely pragmatic at all times, Soundwave had never deigned to answer a stupid question, nor one whose answer was obvious. Soundwave could have no more idea where the Scout had gone than Knockout did. The Scout had done something Soundwave had not expected. Soundwave was no fool. If the Scout could do one thing unexpected, he could do any number of things.

Soundwave was probably recalculating what he knew about the Scout, trying to forge a profile, a pattern of behavior from the information at hand. He was completely rethinking things. The Scout was obviously more desperate than they had suspected.

Bumblebee was known to them as being a daredevil, bold and utterly without fear. But he was not a fool. You did not survive the Great War as he had by being a fool. He had carefully measured the risk of Soundwave ripping him to shreds on the spot versus the reward of acquiring control of the Decepticon without a face. It had been limited, but that was all the Scout had needed to disappear.

Soundwave did not appear deeply concerned. He knew as well as Knockout that the Scout had been dismissed from the Autobot ranks for reasons unknown, that they believed him to be dead and so did the humans, who had obviously been on a mission to kill him when they arrived.

Death had been his only avenue of escape. And that meant he had no one he could turn to, and thus nowhere to run. The odds were on their side, it was only a matter of time.

Time... unfortunately that was not something they had in abundance. Time was a weapon, and it currently belonged to Pit Viper, whose plan was a complete mystery at best.

Evasion was as much a skill of knowing people as terrain. Knowing who was hunting you meant knowing what they would expect you to do. Soundwave knew only a fool would try the same trick twice, and he knew also that Bumblebee was no fool.

But he also knew that Bumblebee was uncommonly daring, not just from their most recent exchange but from years of strike and counterstrike back on Cybertron. The Scout might well pull the same stunt a second time because he knew those in pursuit would not expect it.

While he feigned complete absorption in the condition of Laserbeak, Soundwave scanned the nearby area, looking for a place the Autobot might hide. He'd hidden mere yards from where he'd faked his death, he might now be concealing himself near the point of his escape.

It would be foolish to be hiding so close by, unless of course you credited your pursuer with the intellect to not only know it was foolish but to also be aware of whether or not you yourself were a fool. There was no sign of the Scout.

That undoubtedly meant he'd cut a straight path away from this location. Dodging and weaving and changing direction suddenly was only valuable in the close pursuit, or if the pursuer expected the pursued to take a straight course to a given destination. Barring those reasons, the only sensible course was to get to the desired location in the fastest way possible.

Given that the Scout desired to remain hidden, not just from one group but from all of them, he would have headed out, away from populated areas. That decided, Soundwave handed Laserbeak to Knockout, then transformed and took off into the wasteland.

"Thanks for sharing your thoughts on this matter!" Knockout yelled after him, then shrugged indifferently.

So long as he didn't have to get his paint dirty, he didn't much care what Soundwave did.

* * *

In this particular instance, Bumblebee came out the winner. He didn't know it, of course, but he couldn't afford to doubt it either. Rather than avoiding civilization, Bumblebee drove right back towards it, marking a semi-straight course for home.

He was counting on nobody expecting him to do that. It was the path he'd taken before faking his death, and so he could not be expected to continue on the same course. That would be simply idiotic. The idiocy of it was what Bumblebee counted on.

Nobody thought he was this stupid. Even Soundwave, who realized that brilliance could disguise itself as stupidity. For the moment, he was left alone. Nobody knew where he was, nor where he was going.

That meant he now had time to think, to decompress, to come to terms with reality as it had presented itself. But not as Bumblebee. He couldn't think emotionally, he was too exhausted for that. He had to think tactically, without feeling for people or place, with the objective his only concern.

_{Are you afraid, Scout?}_ the Viper had asked the question before, now he elaborated where he had not before, _{You should be. Everyone is the enemy now. Everyone wants you dead. What are you going to do, Scout? What do you intend to become in order to survive?}_

_I know the truth, but I just can't think!_

Rest. He needed rest. But to rest was to let the others catch up. To let the Viper visit him once again. Every time he rested, the Viper came and found him, and then something bad happened. He had to keep moving. But if he didn't rest, he wouldn't be able to think clearly.

The practical mind argued with the emotional. He was tired, and not to rest just because he was afraid of his demons coming to visit him really _was_ stupid. He could not afford to run himself into the ground.

Remember the war. Explosions, fighting all around, but rest was a weapon you could not go without. Your tactics would suffer, your aim would suffer, your speed, agility and endurance... rest was necessary, no matter what was going on around you.

_Find a place to rest, and stop._ The soldier he'd been, and still was inside, had it right.

He'd bought himself time, he'd be a fool to waste it.

* * *

"Where would Bee go if he was tryin' to clear his name?" Bulkhead wondered aloud.

"What makes you think that's what he's doing?" Ratchet asked.

Bulkhead blinked, then sort of shrugged, "What else would he be doing?"

"Hunting," Optimus replied when Ratchet remained silent.

"Come again?"

"Pit Viper, if that is truly who this is, has been chasing him for reasons we don't understand," Optimus said, "He's been set up. Chances are, the dead man was dead before Bumblebee ever engaged Pit Viper, and probably hidden from view so he wouldn't be seen. Pit Viper wanted Bumblebee isolated, his confidence shattered. In shock, so he would be easy to manipulate. And I played right into his hands."

"You couldn't have known," Ratchet said gently, but Optimus cut him off.

"I was so intent upon my own assumptions, I did not think to look for the truth. I was so ready to believe that I was seeing Megatron all over again, so eager for things to be as black and white as they appeared, I completely ignored what I knew of Bumblebee. I allowed one sentiment to take the place of another, and in doing so, I betrayed one who trusted me and, by proxy, everyone who should be able to trust me."

"We'll get him back," Arcee said decisively, "Bee's never been one to hold a grudge. Especially when he knows it was a mistake. Remember, he condemned himself just as quickly as you did. If you hadn't, he would have."

"I am his leader, it was I who ordered him away," Optimus told her, "That is not a mistake which may be excused with the wave of a hand."

"Let's get back to the part where he's hunting," Bulkhead suggested, "What's he hunting?"

"The Viper," Optimus said, "He may not know who or how, but Bumblebee has always had the ability to know when he is being played for a fool. Playing dead cuts his tie to the puppet master."

"Why not just run?" Arcee asked, "I'll bet anything he was there when Bulkhead and I learned he wasn't dead. He knows we know he's alive, and knows we're not trying to kill him. Why not come in?"

"He knows nothing of the kind," Optimus explained, "He is caught in a web of lies, and has no way of knowing who to trust. If we were attempting to lay a trap for him, how would we set it?"

"By pretending we weren't looking for him," Arcee sighed, "I see your point. The obvious is no longer obvious. He can't trust us because he doesn't know if we trust him."

"More than that," Optimus said, "It is likely he is relying on the instincts and skills he learned during the Great War. Behind enemy lines, exposing traitors and conversing with spies, there is only one rule, the only rule that can keep you alive: Trust no one."

"I always worked with a partner," Arcee said, "But there were times he was the only one I trusted."

"Wreckers didn't much care for anyone not one of their own," Bulkhead shrugged.

"It's not the same," Ratchet said, shaking his head, "For him, the war was a lot like it was for us who were there at the beginning. You couldn't even trust those you thought of as allies, because it was possible they didn't trust _you_. Anyone could turn on anyone, just because they were unsure. Trust has to go both ways, or else it doesn't work."

"There were those who were unsure of his loyalty," Optimus elaborated, "And they might have killed him if he had done anything to provoke them."

"Like who?" Arcee asked, "Bee was primarily a messenger, he had to be trusted."

Optimus didn't answer that, which set Arcee on edge. She didn't like it when he refused to answer questions. It usually meant there was some painful story to tell, one that needed to be told but that he did not want to speak of. Optimus was not typically evasive, not without reason.

"Bumblebee is operating under the assumption that everyone wants him dead," Optimus said, instead of answering the question, "A reasonable assumption under the circumstances. But his personality was always ill-suited to acting alone."

"Then why was he so good at what he did during the war?" Arcee asked.

"Because he was capable of doing something few of us were, at least not so completely. He could set himself aside, all feeling and thoughts, becoming a creature of instinct and training, acting on impulses sent by what he knew, instead of what he felt. This ability to ignore self in favor of completing the mission allowed him to kill those he thought of as friends when he discovered their treachery, permitted him to turn his back on those he called allies, leaving them to fight while he went on to deliver information. It made him capable of anything," Optimus explained, "But it also nearly destroyed him."

"Why would he go back to being that?" Arcee wanted to know.

"Because he feels he has no choice. He has been backed into a corner, and now he's lashing out. Pit Viper has pushed him to use every resource he has. Including the person he swore he would never be again. Pit Viper has no idea what he's done. He has set a killer free, awakened a sleeping demon and, in so doing, sealed his own doom."

"Looks like we've finally got an ID on the dead man." Agent Fowler announced, entering the base through his accustomed door, which might have startled the Autobots if they had bothered to notice him at all.

But Fowler's words had little effect on them, their concern was with the immediate present and the distant past. Fowler waited for a moment, but the best he got was their passing attention.

"It wasn't easy to find him, and now I know why," Fowler went on, pretending his audience was enthralled, "He worked for MECH. From our side, this changes everything."

"How so?" Optimus asked.

"I know you guys have a different code of ethics and whatever, but to me, the people I answer to, self defense is a pretty good reason for wanting to hurt somebody. You may choose to think you're too powerful for this world, but even you have to admit that MECH against a lone bot is somewhat less than a fair fight, the odds favoring MECH."

There was a moment of silence where the Autobots exchanged looks, each trying to figure out how much should be said and in what way. For his own safety as much as anything. If he found out there was another involved, one who really was an indiscriminate killer, would he redouble his efforts hunting the new quarry? The Autobots didn't want that, and so they said nothing.

"Of course, it's also possible that he saw someone from MECH and went ballistic. Understandable, considering the things they've done. But less excusable."

"It may not matter anymore, Agent Fowler," Optimus said.

"Oh. Right. You really think your scout catapulted himself off a bridge into oblivion?"

Optimus elected not to lie, though he was somewhat less than truthful in his response.

"If not, then we will find him."

"Uh, not to change the subject or anything..." Bulkhead interrupted, clearly meaning to do just that, "But has anybody seen Raf?"

"I thought you were taking care of him," Arcee said.

"I thought so too, but he wasn't at home. I thought maybe you..." he trailed off, glancing at the still frozen image of the supposedly dead Decepticon.

"Oh no," Arcee breathed.

* * *

Bumblebee was not hunting. The battle with the Decepticons had taken more out of him than he'd realized at first. His engine coughed, and there was a rattling noise he couldn't entirely account for. He knew that he had reached his limit. This time, there would be no running away. When the Viper came to find him, he would not be able to run or fight back. It was over.

He was done.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part 2 – From the Pit**

"_The soldier above all other people prays for peace, for he must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war." __**\- General Douglas MacArthur**_

* * *

_Many years ago, Cybertron_

Fear wasn't just hanging in the air, a spectral presence following along; it seemed to have a physical form, an actual weight. Cliffjumper could almost see it, and he could definitely feel it. There were many orders he didn't want to receive, and he'd always thought the most dreaded one was 'retreat'. But when the order came down to find and eliminate an outcast Pit Viper, he realized he was wrong.

Pit Viper was the one 'Con nobody wanted a piece of. Even the newly formed Wreckers with their excessively violent guerrilla tactics didn't want anything to do with the Viper. You didn't hunt Pit Viper if you wanted to have a long life. He'd either kill you, turn you, or somehow convince those in your unit that you _had_ turned, leading to your swift execution.

Some said he was a ghost with the powers of possession. Cliff didn't believe that kind of drivel, but he had enough close encounter stories where Pit Viper was concerned to write a book which would then have to be put on the science fiction shelf because nobody would believe it.

Cliff wasn't sure he believed the intel, that Pit Viper had fallen from grace and been kicked out of the Decepticon ranks. Cliff wasn't an idiot, he could appreciate the talent of the enemy. And Pit Viper was not short on talent. He was not only good at his job, he was versatile.

He was above all an assassin, capable of sneaking far into Autobot territory and taking out heavily protected officers and buildings. And he was known to do some spying on the side while he was at it, having made contacts and either unwitting or unwilling allies in many a strategic position. The contacts could be caught. But Pit Viper always got away.

He had killed so many, with such apparent ease. The intel that he was out in the cold now was too good to ignore. Cliff understood why they had to take Viper now, while he was presumably helpless and badly wounded. There was no other way.

But if it was true, if Megatron really had abandoned Viper, was there a possibility that the latter could now be used to bring about the former's demise? Cliff wasn't one for manipulation or espionage, it wasn't his bag. But he couldn't keep the thought from mind as he crept through the ruined and abandoned city in search of the dead or dying.

He was not alone, though he was beyond sight of his unit. The Autobot forces were stretched beyond reasoning, but the death of Pit Viper was a high priority, and there was a large area to cover. Cliff had this square mile all to himself, but the next guy over was just a radio call away.

He could feel that guy's fear all the way from here. Or maybe it was his own. He didn't know, and preferred to deny it existed. It wasn't incapacitating, in fact he kind of wished it was. It was a warning fear, telling him to get out, get out now while he still could.

"_Don't forget,"_ the voice of Ultra Magnus, in reality a thousand miles away embarked on a mission of his own, had said, _"Pit Viper was a gladiator, second only to Megatronus. Even if he really has been abandoned as intel suggests, you could be walking into a serpent's lair, so be careful."_

Not just words. Warning from one who'd met Pit Viper face to face and come out of it in one piece, neither dead nor compromised. A warning Cliff's every instinct told him to heed.

Cliff didn't like the feeling. He had never admitted defeat before, never yielded to an adversary yet. He was gaining a reputation for being tough, fearless, reckless even. He wanted that reputation. Reputation was the sort of thing that could aid you in battle, and in dealing with superiors. Politics. Cliff had never much understood politics. But he did know that a reputation could take you places.

Just look at him now. He'd never met Pit Viper close up, but he was shaking in his cogs. Reputation. Pit Viper was not one you should mess with. It was playing with fire to hunt him. And anyone who played with fire for long got burned. Even if they were tough.

The ruined city was dark, and Cliff's light did little to illuminate the place. Shadows slithered back at his approach, but refused to go away completely. Darkened corners resisted the beam of light, and could be concealing anything. It wouldn't be long before Cliff would have to douse the lights.

This area was regularly patrolled from the air. This was behind enemy lines, the mission was insane. But that only proved how necessary Pit Viper's demise was. Risking not one life, but eight of the best infiltrators the Autobot army had, just for the death of this one ex-Decepticon.

The things Pit Viper knew, could learn and was capable of were worth almost any price. He could not be questioned, but any information he had must die with him. Assuming, of course, that he was not already dead. The report indicated that Megatron had really done a number on him. He might have bled out, might well be scraplet food by now.

Might be, but Cliff didn't buy it and it was obvious his superiors didn't either. Viper had been thought dead more than once. Command didn't want a story, they wanted proof. Pit Viper _must_ die.

Cliff checked the time. By all reports, he had another fifteen minutes before he had to find cover under the debris which were the remains of once tall buildings. He'd then have to lie quiet for the better part of half an hour. The air patrol would be approaching from the North, and then would sweep past. It would be at least thirty minutes between the time they were in visual range and the time they went overhead and disappeared over the horizon.

During that time, any light or motion would attract their attention. Air patrols had sharp eyes. And it was said there was a new air commander Spark-bent on making a name for himself. A youngster with probably more ambition than good sense. He probably wouldn't last long. His name was Star-something or the other. Cliff didn't know or care.

Names didn't mean much. There were Decepticons and there were Autobots. Only the ones who accomplished the incredible were worth remembering by name.

Cliff never liked visiting places where battles had been fought, especially not where they'd been lost. But even a victory was a sort of loss, as pieces of home were slowly but inevitably shattered, destroyed in the face of the never-ending parade of battles that were the fabric of this interminable war.

He hoped the war might end soon. It had already dragged on for longer than he cared to think about, and every minute, every second, it continued brought them closer to a disaster he couldn't even clearly picture in his mind. It would be so nice just to end it, to quit and go home. But Cliffjumper had no illusions. He knew Megatron and his lot would destroy Cliff and his like. And that wouldn't even be the end of it. Megatron would destroy everything in his quest for ultimate power.

There were some disheartened soldiers who thought that maybe it wasn't worth it, that maybe they were doing more harm than good in standing against the Decepticons. But Cliffjumper knew, as surely as he knew Cybertron was his home, that if Megatron came to power there would soon be nothing left. And some deepest instinct told him that it wouldn't end with Cybertron.

Perhaps they would lose their friends, maybe even their lives. Maybe they'd never win. But, if it took an eternity of fighting, Megatron must not be permitted absolute rule. The price would be higher than any cost of war could ever be. It was beyond imagining for Cliff.

Even so, in his darkest, most discouraged moments, Cliff sometimes wondered if maybe there weren't Decepticons who didn't want Megatron's vision for the future either. Soldiers tired of all the fighting, all the death and destruction. And then he'd wonder if maybe he'd killed some of them, Decepticons who might have proven to be allies, or at least valuable spies. He never lingered on these thoughts for long. He couldn't. There was no place for sentiment or regret on the battlefield. Not unless you wanted to die, or worse hesitate and get one of your own killed.

A sudden clattering behind him brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt as he whirled and leveled both his light and his weapon at where he estimated the source of the noise to be. Only a swirl of disturbed dust and small fragments of shattered metal skipping down farther into the wreckage of the city revealed that the whatever he'd heard was real and not imagined. Whatever it was, it was fast.

Cliffjumper backed away, listening hard for any other telling sound. Something hit him hard from behind, and he realized he'd fallen for a diversion. Oldest trick in the book and he'd fallen for it, hadn't even seen it coming. He didn't have time to berate himself for his moment of stupidity, as he hit the ground, was forcibly rolled to the right under a ledge of concrete and steel supports. A shoulder pressed into his chest, pinning him into the crevice, preventing him from raising his weapon.

There was no room to maneuver, he couldn't even wiggle, much less attempt to push the weight off. His light was buried in the rubble, his left hand pinned beneath and behind him, his right held between his chest and the shoulder of his assailant.

He started to struggle, resisting the impulse to cry out. He didn't like calling for help, preferring to handle things on his own. The weight pinning him to the back of this crevice near the ground shifted suddenly, an arm swept up and struck him in the throat, rattling his voice box, then held there.

"Shut up!" Hissed his adversary in a fierce voice, "Unless you want us both dead!"

Cliff couldn't see his assailant, but he could see past him. Cliff grew still and quiet as he caught the sound of a low mechanical whirring noise. A bright light played on the ground from above. Cliff knew what he was seeing. One of the drones of a Decepticon Scout. Intel was wrong, or at least incomplete. Nothing had been said about drones, only patrols.

The drone wasn't just meandering aimlessly, either. It was hunting. Scanning the ground below for something. Life signs. It was hunting for Cliffjumper. Or perhaps his unseen assailant, who seemed to have been his rescuer in reality. Was it an Autobot Scout that had found him, perhaps?

The strength and speed of the attack had been equal to or perhaps even beyond Cliffjumper's own skills. He didn't think it could be a Scout. But who else would be out here, other than one who was more spy or messenger than fighter? This was no battlefield, this was a graveyard.

"Be still!" snapped the soldier, Cliff had shifted slightly to try and get a better look outside.

That tone was one of command. This was no Scout, for a Scout would never address a Warrior in that tone of voice. Cliff instinctively resisted the voice of authority, for it was one he did not recognize. Actually, Cliff tended to balk at any and all authority figures, even those he was familiar with. Sometimes the impulse to resist command overrode good sense.

"I would rather you die than both of us. Move again and I _will_ kill you."

Minutes passed in uncomfortable silence. Having exhausted all of the more desirable possibilities that made sense, Cliff was left with one theory, which was borne out when his unknown benefactor abruptly heaved away from him, letting him out of the hiding place and into the meager light of Cybertron's moon. Cliff crawled out awkwardly, the crevice was too small for him to have climbed into, only by being shoved in backwards forcibly had he fit at all.

He stretched, and then flicked his light in the direction his assailant-turned-assistant had gone. The other Cybertronian had not gone far. In fact, he'd barely dragged himself from the crevice and now sat leaning heavily against the debris, and Cliff realized he hadn't so much been held down by the soldier as sat on. The soldier had no strength left after wrestling Cliff into the crevice.

Cliff wasn't sure how he'd managed that much. The casing was missing from his entire left side, circuitry and framework was exposed, and the sickly sweet smell of leaked and drying energon filled the air. What little was left of the green paint the soldier had once sported was scorched black.

Cliffjumper had found Pit Viper, but he wasn't at all as expected.

Without his armor plating, Pit Viper looked about half Cliff's size, but they were probably about the same. Pit Viper's lines were sharper, sleeker, his design was one of agility and unparalleled ground speed more than strength. Cliff had heard Pit Viper could travel on ground and air, but he saw no evidence of the latter now, though perhaps that was because he was looking at fragmented remains of a once proud Decepticon soldier. He had surely been abandoned as intel said.

"Your pride will be the death of you, Autobot Warrior," Pit Viper wheezed, leaning his head back against the broken wall he rested beside, allowing his eyes to roll.

"I could have taken out a drone," Cliff snapped angrily.

"Do not underestimate an Air Commander," Pit Viper hissed acidly, "Especially not that one. His treachery will be the end of us all, I fear."

"I didn't know the infamous Pit Viper was capable of such emotion."

"I am a Decepticon, but I am not a fool," Pit Viper spat back, "I do not believe the army to be invincible. I know we are mortal, and a weak link in the chain makes the strength of other links irrelevant. The chain snaps, the war is lost."

"You realize you're giving me information, don't you?" Cliff asked.

"I give warning," Pit Viper corrected, his voice weak and quiet, "I know my limits. I am hunted by Decepticons and Autobots alike. All want me dead. In this war, I am finished, its conclusion is of no concern to me any longer. Either way, I am dead. I would tell anyone this: Starscream is not to be trusted, and must not be allowed to obtain the power he seeks."

"You realize I'm an Autobot. So you must know I don't want any of your kind taking power."

"Even you would prefer Megatron's rule to that of Starscream. Believe that. And see that the traitor dies. You get the chance to kill him, do so. He is one who kills for ego as much as advantage, and any rule of his is bound to be bloodier than you can possibly imagine."


	17. Chapter 17

_Long ago, on Cybertron..._

"Why tell me? Why not use that information to bargain for your life? You know a lot, you could be very valuable to the Autobot cause," Cliff said.

Not because the offer was on the table, it wasn't. He'd been sent to kill the Decepticon soldier. But he had made the mistake of speaking to Pit Viper, of letting the Viper speak to him. And now he was curious about the soldier who had saved his life. He couldn't help it, he wasn't cut out for murder.

"I am a Decepticon. That I have been beaten and cast out is of little consequence. A convincing lie was told, I am no stranger to the art of manipulation. Contrary to popular opinion, a fool is not required. In fact, in my line of work, one seldom encounters fools. And, when I do, I kill them, for they have no value to me nor to anyone else. Megatron is no fool, but he was fed a lie told with a silver tongue, and I have paid for it. Will pay for it. I have lost my place at his side and, though he spared my life, there are as many Decepticons as Autobots who wish to see me dead for reasons which are their own. Even if this was not the case, who would trust anything I say? I am the one who turned Autobots against their own, who led squadrons of soldiers to their demise, laying traps and baiting them with only my words. There is no bargain I could strike which would ensure my life would be spared. And so it is not worth the effort. You came to kill me, so do it."

"You saved my life," Cliffjumper reminded him.

"Only in my own interest. Had you been discovered, you would have been tortured for information, and then killed. Meanwhile, this area would be searched for more of your kind, and for what you sought. The Decepticons know you have but one reason to be here. They would find me and kill me, with far less mercy than an Autobot would. I told you that I did not want both of us to die. I did not tell you which of us I meant to survive."

"If you're a Decepticon in Spark, why save me from being captured?" Cliff asked.

"Because I am more selfish than patriotic, as are most Decepticons. A single shot to the head, that is what an Autobot executioner offers. A Decepticon would tear me to pieces. Not just for information, but also for fun. And perhaps for revenge. I do not wish to be cut into small chunks. I prefer a death with some measure of dignity. You are alive, so grant me that."

Even in spite of himself, Cliffjumper raised his weapon, leveling it at the head of the Decepticon he'd been sent to kill. He realized to his shock that his arm was trembling slightly. If the Decepticon noticed, he gave no hint of it, gazing steadily at Cliff through orange-tinged red eyes.

Cliff closed his eyes, lowering his arm. He couldn't do it. He could not kill a helpless Cybertronian, Decepticon or not. And Pit Viper was helpless.

His body was in shreds, he was without any weapons, those had been ripped from him. And he was right, there wasn't a Bot in the Decepticon or the Autobot army that didn't want him dead. He was without power, and Cliffjumper was not without mercy.

"I'm letting you go," Cliff said, "There's no point in killing you."

"Leave me for another to slay," Pit Viper spat, his voice contemptuous, "So long as I'm alive, the hunt will go on. I cannot evade my pursuers forever, and I have no reason to try. Do not clear your conscience by leaving the dirty work to another. If I am tortured by one of my former comrades, it is not his name I will curse, but yours. You have this chance to perform an act of kindness. But you're an Autobot. I had almost forgotten, you Autobots never have the gears to get energon on your hands."

Cliff fired a single shot, which scorched the wall directly to the right of Pit Viper's head. The Decepticon didn't even flinch, but he did fall silent, his eyes narrowing.

"No one will hunt you," Cliffjumper said, "Because everyone will think you're dead. That is my act of kindness. Don't make me regret it."

"I do not have the power to make you regret anything," Pit Viper replied quietly after a moment's hesitation, "Whether I am dead or thought dead, no one will mourn my passing from this war."

Cliffjumper swallowed, and managed a curt nod.

He didn't understand what he felt. This wasn't the first time he'd questioned or even disobeyed orders that he didn't agree with. He was a good soldier, gifted with superior fighting ability and exceptional instincts. And there was understanding between him and his superiors that sometimes things looked different down in the trenches than they did back at base camp.

He wasn't a fool, nor was he burdened with excessive sentimentality. He knew the evil of Pit Viper, had heard stories and sometimes seen the results. Hell, he'd been part of a squad sent into a combat situation with faulty intel courtesy of one of Pit Viper's blackmailed converts.

But he did have an Autobot's code of ethics and sense of morality. The fact was, Pit Viper was in no position to even save his own life, much less cause any more trouble for the Autobots. He was universally reviled, an outcast not even merely abandoned but actively hunted by his own kind.

That drone had been searching. Searching for Pit Viper. Cliff didn't understand what lie had led to Pit Viper's being disowned by Megatron, but it had happened and that was enough.

Aside from which, Pit Viper had saved his life. Regardless of what he said, it was not the action of a loyal Decepticon. A true disciple of Megatron would be willing to suffer anything to further the Decepticon cause. And Cliff wasn't about to buy that Pit Viper was merely a coward.

He'd heard too many stories and, having met the Decepticon face to face, he heard no fear in the voice. Pit Viper was not afraid of pain, nor was he afraid to die. The liar was lying. Cliffjumper didn't know why Pit Viper had saved him, but it wasn't for the reason he'd been given.

Regardless, Pit Viper was a neutralized threat, no danger to anyone anymore.

Cliff decided he was merely uncomfortable with the lie he would have to tell and then live with for the rest of his days. He was going to report Pit Viper dead and call off the hunt. Sooner or later, the Decepticons would get the information that Pit Viper had been executed by an Autobot, and they too would stop hunting for their disgraced comrade.

Cliffjumper was a proud Autobot, and it was a matter of that pride that he be unflinchingly honest. And now he was going to become a liar. Not for one of his own, but for the enemy, for one of the most hated Cybertronians in this damn war.

_Scrap..._

...Pit Viper watched the Autobot retreat. He had once again proved he was a master of the game. He hadn't known what tactic to use when he'd first tackled the Autobot. The words, movements and intonation of his target had told him what to say and how.

Enough truth had been in his words to convince the Autobot, who was probably a good judge of character. But the Warrior was overconfident in himself and his abilities. His ego would be the death of him. But that wasn't Pit Viper's concern.

He had just bought himself time. And time was all he needed.

A lie had brought him to disgrace, but Megatron had not killed him outright. So long as he was operational, Pit Viper knew he could buy his way back into Megatron's good graces. He had been given that. He was too valuable to simply kill. And that's why Starscream needed him dead.

Once back among the Decepticon ranks, Pit Viper would expose the truth. It was not he who was too ambitious and wanted Megatron's army for his own. It was Starscream.

The truth had been told by the air commander, but it had been twisted. Starscream had applied his truth to Pit Viper, and it had been convincing. Pit Viper had almost believed it himself. One must know the truth, and tell enough of it in order to lie convincingly.

But Starscream was a fool, and was unable to get out of the way of his own ego. He had taken Pit Viper unawares once, but never again. Even if the truth was not exposed, Pit Viper would find a way to kill the Decepticon traitor. But first thing was first.

First, he must lie low until the word was spread that he had been killed. And then he must seek to make repairs to his broken body. After that, he would have to do something to win Megatron's favor.

None of it would have been possible if not for the Autobot Warrior, who would probably live to regret his decision to let Pit Viper remain online.

_Your mistake seals the fate of your kind, for I shall see your like fall. Every last one of you. I am the serpent, and you fell under the spell of my siren song. I am death and you set me free on the world._

* * *

"I don't like it. Scouts are supposed to get intel and bring it back to _us_."

"Not when they ain't our Scouts."

"So what? We sit here at the front lines, trading shots with the 'Cons with our thumbs up our exhaust ports while these loners, these... soldiers for hire, sit quietly and do nothing."

"Better get your facts straight; these kids joined up and were trained just like you and I were."

"And then what? They didn't play well with others? I feel we're the ones about to be informed on."

The two Autobots posted to guard against a night time surprise attack were awfully chatty. They were talking about Bumblebee, but he did not care to weigh in on their discussion. He didn't much care what they thought of him, just so long as they did not prevent him from doing as he'd been instructed.

They were probably just steamed because the both of them were Warriors and yet Bumblebee, a mere Scout, did not answer to them, nor even acknowledge their existence. He couldn't. He could not learn their names or take interest in their personalities. If he did, he would not be able to leave when the time came. Not if he didn't know they were safe.

Therefore, he maintained his silence, and his distance. He had traveled far along the line, and that was after creeping out of heavily fortified enemy territory. He was exhausted and had to rest. He had far to go, and not much time. Information typically had a short lifespan, which could be marginally extended if the enemy didn't know you'd been there to learn anything.

Tonight was the last rest he'd get until Tyger Pax. It was a long haul, and he wished the two watchmen would at least show the courtesy of keeping their voices down. But they wanted to be heard, or one of them did anyway. He was mad salty about secrets being kept from him, but the truth was he was just miffed a lowly Scout had no interest in being awed by him.

In his travels, Bumblebee got to see something most Autobots didn't want to admit existed. Not all Autobots were alike. Not all were courageous, not all were loyal, and even the ones that were didn't always play well with others. The truth was, being an Autobot didn't automatically make you someone to be trusted. Bumblebee had uncovered traitors before. More than once.

He didn't think the mouthy soldier was a traitor. Far from it, actually. This was someone who had been on the front lines too long, the stress was getting to him and he was lashing out irrationally, taking his frustration out on any and all available targets.

"You don't like how command handles things, you can always tell them about it," the more reasonable soldier commented, "Autobot Army's still young, there are a lot of places which could be improved. I hear they've just started sending medics into the field with squads."

"Sounds like lunacy to me."

"Maybe not. You have any idea the number of soldiers who might have been saved if a medic had been on the scene? A lot of buddies have died just because it took too long to get them to help."

"And do _you_ know," countered the other, "How many medics are out there? Not enough. Risk their lives, you risk us all. It's idiotic, that's what it is. In the short term, maybe you save a life or two, but what about long term? What happens when all your medics are dead? And don't think the Decepticons won't target medics. I'd like it better if they were all stupid, but not all of 'em are, and any one of 'em has got more cruelty in his little pointy head than we've got in our whole squad."

"I'm happy to hear it. I was starting to wonder what the difference between us and them was."

Bumblebee bristled involuntarily. Those were treacherous words, even spoken in jest. He knew only too well how a joke could eventually become serious. He filed the voice away in his memory. Another soldier he couldn't afford to trust, even in passing.

It might seem paranoid, but experience said that it was not.

"Will you two shut up!?" hissed one of their comrades, "Some of us are trying to rest."

The soldiers quieted down and Bumblebee settled. He'd be gone before morning, before any of these soldiers woke up. It was for the best. The less time he spent with them, the better. Better for him, and better for them. Their curiosity would overcome their orders, they'd ask him what he knew, where he'd been. They might even ask his name. Sentiment, attachment. Even camaraderie could not be afforded.

Not in Bumblebee's line of work.

Maybe someday, after the war, he'd be able to have friends again. Assuming he was still capable of it. One could not train oneself to behave in a certain way and then expect it to be undone all at once. Not after so much time and effort had been put into stilling the voices of sentiment and sanity.

_You're thinking again. Stop it. Rest. Sleep._


	18. Chapter 18

The Scout was the key.

Slipping silently through the darkness, sliding easily across the invisible line between Decepticon and Autobot territory, Pit Viper formed the plan which would return him to Megatron's good graces. He had repaired himself, and studied the Autobot troop arrangements for weeks, looking for that gift which would be beyond any lie told by Starscream. The Scout was it.

Scouts such as this were elusive, knew things about both sides, but were quick and clever and never in one place for very long. No official records existed to let a spy find out where they were scheduled to be. You couldn't find a Scout like this except by his falling into your lap.

But it wouldn't be easy to run the Scout. This Scout had a plan for where he was going. Pit Viper was sure that it had to be Tyger Pax. Rumor had it that an Autobot could secure military transport there, hitching a ride deeper into Autobot territory.

Rumor had it, because Pit Viper had spread it. Through contacts on both sides, he had spread the information. It would reach the Scout, who would be eager to get back with the intel he was carrying. And too, it would reach Decepticons who were just as eager to cut off the lines of communication.

If the Scout wasn't there, they would be wasting their time. But the Scout would be worthy compensation. Instead of a dangerous and exhausting battle, the Decepticons would unearth a Scout carrying information worth every second they spent at Tyger Pax.

It hadn't been easy following the Scout all this time. The Scout got in and out of places Pit Viper never would have dreamed an Autobot capable of. He was a cold one too, more than once abandoning the scene of a battle in favor of continuing onward, protecting his intel. It would have been easy to lose him amidst the gunfire and explosions.

He was an exceptional creature, worthy of Pit Viper's time.

But he was also young. The young were easily manipulated. An older, more experienced soldier wouldn't head for Tyger Pax on nothing but a rumor. He'd look for facts. But this Scout had been going towards Tyger Pax in a straight line, making no secret of his flight path because he did not anticipate being followed. His self-confidence would be his downfall.

The problem was that the Decepticon forces were moving sooner than expected. Pit Viper had spotted them earlier in the evening. Worse, Megatron was among them. The Scout _had_ to be there when he arrived. And that meant the Scout had to get up and move now!

Winding his way among the slumbering Autobots, Pit Viper planted explosive charges, timing them to go off at intervals. He wanted to awaken the Scout and get him moving, and then keep him going. Pit Viper was only one. He could slay all of these Autobots in their sleep, but that wouldn't drive the Scout. Worse, the Scout might stay and prolong the battle.

Autobots were known for being more loyal to one another than their cause at times.

He had to make the Scout run. He knew how to accomplish it, but it was far riskier than just killing every Autobot in the area. He had to get in among them while they were alive. He had to be in their midst before the first explosion went off.

He crawled right up next to the Scout, grabbing him by the shoulder and whispering in his ear.

"Run, Scout! Get out, get out now!"

The Scout shoved him back and staggered upright, his thinking clouded by exhaustion and sleep, baffled by the stranger's voice issuing unfamiliar commands. No sooner had the Scout gotten up than the first explosion went off. A fiery ball of red-orange flame shot upwards towards the sky. The Scout looked over his shoulder and gazed at the fire, comprehension dawning.

The Autobots were under attack. He shook himself, but did not immediately flee. Instead, the Scout turned his weapons towards the source of the explosion, anticipating an onrushing threat.

A secondary blast rocked the ground to his left. Autobot soldiers were up and shouting, running to put out the fires, looking for enemies where there were none, some of them had caught fire and were flailing, trying to put themselves out while their comrades tried to douse the flames.

Chaos had been born in an instant. But still the Scout did not move.

_Idiot!_ Pit Viper thought, _Complete your mission! Forget these expendables and do as your orders dictate. Get out!_

A third explosion, followed almost instantly by a fourth. The activity of the Autobots drew the attention of nearby entrenched Decepticons. Seeing an opportunity, the Decepticon soldiers crept from their place of hiding and eased towards the Autobot lines.

The Scout was a standing target, just like the others. Pit Viper plunged from his hiding place, counting on the chaos around to cover him, to prevent the Autobots from identifying him as an enemy.

He caught the Scout from the back by the shoulders and flung him in the direction of distant Tyger Pax.

"Idiot!" he snarled at the fallen Scout, "Get out! Protect your intel! Do your job!"

The Scout glared at him, but transformed into a vehicle mode and shot away from the scene, disappearing into the darkness. It was fortunate the Scout didn't know any of the Autobots around him. They were all strangers to him, one more stranger made no impression.

Pit Viper looked back at the destruction he'd wrought, and was pleased to see the swift assault of the Decepticons. Without any forewarning, they had been given an opportunity to slaughter the enemy, and they were taking full advantage of it. By morning, there would be no one left alive.

No one to tell where the Scout had gone, or whether he had even been here at all. The Scout was cut off, and heading straight into a trap laid by Pit Viper.

Now it was time for phase two.

Shifting into his own vehicle mode, Pit Viper took off after the Scout. For now, he only had to follow. But he needed to overtake the Scout before he reached Tyger Pax.

There could be no mistake. Megatron must know that this was Pit Viper's doing. Because Pit Viper could not show himself, that meant that the Scout up ahead had to know. The Scout had to know his name, know his face, know who it was who'd handed him over to the Decepticons.

After that, it was up to Megatron to make the Scout talk...

* * *

Cliffjumper's instructions had been clear. He was being sent in to find Autobot prisoners. But not alone. He had been told that there was only one who knew the area he was sneaking into well enough to give him a chance at getting out. One of those loner type Scouts. Cliff had never been especially fond of them. There was something odd about them, they weren't quite all there somehow.

This one less than most. A gruff, if overly clingy, medic had taken great pains to tell Cliff that this particular Scout had been captured and tortured by Decepticons, and that this was his first mission since that near-death experience. Fragile, handle with care. Got it.

"So, I'm told you know the area," Cliff said by way of opening conversation, "You wanna tell me where we're going first and if there are any local patrols I should be worried about?"

The Scout, Bumblebee or something like that, simply turned and put a finger to his face. Be quiet.

That was the really odd thing about this guy. His kind were often close mouthed, but this Scout made it a point to never say a word. Apparently he felt a gesture would do just as well. Too much time behind enemy lines, too much time spent alone. Bound to drive anyone a little nuts after awhile.

Cliff wasn't real keen on the notion of going behind enemy lines, penetrating strongholds and springing prisoners with a basket case. Especially not one accustomed to working alone.

"I don't suppose you have a plan for how we're going to handle this. Beyond the obvious."

They had a schedule, a ship was going to come in to land in a hot zone at a specific time and place. They were to be there or to be left behind. Being left behind was a death sentence. They had only one way out, but first they had to get in.

The Scout stopped, turned and gazed intently at Cliffjumper.

"What? You think because I'm a Warrior, I'm some kinda tactician?" Cliff asked, "From what I hear, you guys don't tend to take well to figures of authority. It's part of your charm."

The Scout didn't bat an eye, just stared at him in silence.

"I've met Decepticons who talk more than you," Cliff commented.

That earned him a glare, but the Scout turned away and continued the march into nowhere. Aside from the front-lines and bases, Decepticon territory was a lot of emptiness, a lot of burned out shells of former cities. Not that Autobot territory was much different. Everything was being fought for, every inch of ground made a difference. As a result, the world was a battlefield.

"You know, I think I was here when these buildings were still upright," Cliff said after they had traveled in silence for a time, "Funny, I don't remember the name of the city anymore."

He almost ran into the Scout, who'd stopped dead in front of him. Bumblebee gestured for him to be silent, and to remain where he was while the Scout did what he did best: scout ahead.

Cliffjumper had worked with Scouts before, and was agreeable. He had come to respect their swiftness and stealth. He was always ready for a fight, but better to know the enemy and terrain ahead. And, given their mission, best to avoid fighting where possible.

The only thing was, he didn't know this Scout. He wasn't sure he should trust Bumblebee. The medic's admonishments were still clear in his mind. The Scout had nearly been killed, and was still crippled in some way Cliff wasn't sure of. He supposed he was meant to be impressed by the Scout's loyalty, but the only thing that stuck was the word "damaged".

Regardless of what the Scout had been before, he might have been shattered by his experience. Cliff had met too many who were said to be survivors, but had become traitors to save their hides. And those who hadn't had often suffered so much at the hands of the Decepticons that they simply weren't the same. Some of them couldn't face combat again. Some of them could be reassigned to posts far from action, but some simply had to be let go, they had given all they could to the war.

Cliff could have sympathy for them, but he also had to think in realistic terms. He did not need a broken soldier holding him back or screwing him over. He didn't need it, and it was possible the Scout didn't either. If the Scout couldn't handle the job anymore, Cliff didn't want to be the one to suffer for it.

The sound of blaster fire yanked Cliff to attention. Never good at sticking to the shadows, Cliff instead employed the time honored technique of barging into battle without looking first. It wasn't a method he'd recommend to anyone, but it seemed to work for him, or would so long as his luck held out. Luck was with him this time. Or perhaps against him, depending upon how you looked at it.

Cliff climbed up on top of a pile of debris that had once been a skyscraper and found himself looking down on a scene of carnage. The Scout had come upon a vehicon patrol, four against one, with the element of surprise being in his favor. The Scout had killed them all. More than that, he'd eviscerated them, torn them to pieces, and now stood trembling among the bodies, his anger not yet spent.

Cliff decided to hang back until the Scout regained control of himself. Killing the vehicons was not in itself so horrifying, but the swiftness and savagery of Bumblebee's attack said something. This soldier really was damaged, but not into being a traitor or a coward. He was something else.

Breathing hard, the Scout suddenly shook himself and looked up at Cliffjumper, acknowledging a fellow Autobot, seeming to only distantly recognize him as such. The Scout wasn't full of fear, he was full of anger, overflowing with hate. He'd kill the first chance he got.

Where they were going, that was probably worse. He'd get them both killed if he broke cover and went on a killing spree every time he caught sight of a Decepticon. This patrol could have been easily avoided. Now it was demolished. The 'Cons would notice the missing patrol, come looking and find this. And then they'd know the Autobots were here.

"Good going, Scout!" Cliff hissed angrily, "You want us to be caught or something!?"

Bumblebee whirled towards him, gesturing rapidly, indicating himself and the dead vehicons and then shaking his head vehemently. It took Cliff a second to decipher what he was saying.

"What do you mean it's not us? I saw you shoot at least one of these things as I was coming over that pile of building. I know _you_ did this."

The Scout shook his head again, balled his hands into fists and then turned away, shaking with clear frustration. Cliff looked again at the bodies strewn about, most of them shot into multiple chunks, severed limbs leaving energon trails to the bodies from whence they'd come. And then it suddenly dawned on him. The Scout might be mad with blood lust, but he was also a genius.

"They'd never think Autobots did this," Cliffjumper realized aloud, his eyes widening, "This level of violence isn't in keeping with our fighting style. If anything, they'll think it's a rogue, maybe one of ours or maybe one of theirs, it doesn't make a difference. Either way, they won't expect us to be coming for them. They'll be hunting for a mindless killer."

Rogues weren't especially common on the Autobot side of things, but they could be found even there. Soldiers who'd snapped under the strain of war, who forgot who and what they were, and began to kill indiscriminately, without regard for their former allegiance. This was a level of violence only a rogue would bring to the table. Only a rogue, or a Scout who knew that the best way to cover his tracks was to disguise them rather than erase them.

Bumblebee turned his head slightly and relaxed the tension in his shoulders. Cliff had guessed right, and that eased the Scout's frustration. But with a plan or without, this Scout was teetering on the edge of being the very thing he wanted the Decepticons to think he was.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me in on the plan next time you decide to take out a bunch of 'Cons? You know, I might like to see a little action too. I'm not here for the sights."

The Scout regarded him in silence, then turned away and proceeded further into Decepticon territory. Cliff took a last look at the shredded vehicons, a shudder rippled through him. And then he followed.

_Great, I'm traveling with a murderous lunatic. Just what this rescue op needs._


	19. Chapter 19

"Hey, hold up," Cliff whispered.

They'd been traveling all night. Daylight was coming, and the risk of them being spotted was too great. Besides that, the both of them needed rest. They'd done away with another patrol, Cliffjumper participating this time, though he left the majority of the destruction to the Scout.

Bumblebee might not be a rogue, but he did a damn good impression of one, firing wildly and destroying inanimate objects as well as the enemy, and continuing to fire even after his adversary was dead. Cliffjumper had stood back and watched when Bumblebee's weapon jammed and the Scout immediately lunged for his opponent, climbed up on their back and ripped their head off with startling precision. He'd done it before, and it didn't seem to bother him.

"We need to rest," Cliff said when the Scout turned towards him, "And to find a place out of sight. You know this area, so find us a place to hide."

The Scout didn't answer, instead pointing up ahead.

"Yeah, I know, I know. We don't have much time. But we're going to be spotted in broad daylight, and we both know it. You may be suicidal, but I came here to rescue my comrades. We need rest, and we need to stay out of sight."

The Scout stared at him, and pointed again.

"You find us a place to rest or I'll blow you away and leave you for the vehicons," Cliff hissed, "I will not die for your vendetta. Got that?"

The Scout pointed again, but this time in a slightly different direction, towards a sort of shelter made by a collapsed heap of buildings. It was a cave of a kind. A place to hide anyway.

"I'm glad we had this talk," Cliff said, brushing past the Scout, who continued to say nothing.

* * *

"Why are there so many patrols in the middle of nowhere?" Cliffjumper wondered aloud, "The Decepticon army is bigger than ours, but even they can't afford to station troops where they aren't needed. They don't have that big an advantage."

The Scout didn't answer. He had perched himself in a niche in the building rubble that was about head height. And there he sat, steadfastly ignoring Cliffjumper and gazing without focus in the direction they were headed. It was getting lighter, but the Scout had pulled himself into the shadows. The rising light did not reflect off his yellow plating. He looked like he could hold that position for hours, even days if he had to. Stealth was about both keeping still and moving quickly.

The switch off was not easy to come by. Those who could remain still didn't have the mental reflexes to deal with volatile situations and those who had the ability couldn't keep still.

Cliffjumper knew it wasn't the fighting that drove you nuts, it was the interminable waiting, the feeling of making no forward progress no matter how many enemies you brought down. The endless parade of missions, each riskier than the last, but every one of them had their endless moments of silence, where the only thing you could do was think, and the only thing you could think about amidst the destruction and the chaos was the war itself. The faces of the dead came to haunt you, and your insecurities arrived to tuck you into a finely tuned paranoid panic.

"We're not in the middle of nowhere, are we?" Cliff asked, neither expecting nor receiving an answer, "Those patrols are guarding something. We're close, aren't we?"

The Scout looked over at him. Cliff had decided to remain on ground level, but he too clung to the shadows. Stealth might not be his forte, but he knew how to hide when he needed to. There was a hole in the center of the ceiling of their shelter, light would come pouring in and they would be visible from above if they didn't stick to the "walls" which were actually piles of rubble, the charred remains of a once magnificent and beloved city whose name Cliff had forgotten.

The Scout's gaze seemed slightly contemptuous, and Cliff was instantly on the defensive.

"You could have told me," Cliff snapped irritably, "You're supposed to be my guide through this place. So far, it seems like you'd rather get me killed than be helpful."

The Scout bristled visibly, but said nothing, instead turning towards the horizon, or perhaps their distant objective. That made Cliff edgier than ever. Sure, the Scout recognized him now, but only barely. What happened when the Scout eventually snapped? It was pretty clear he wasn't stable, might never be stable again. There was viciousness just beneath that calm exterior.

Above all, the Scout wanted to kill, and it seemed to matter to him less and less all the time exactly who or what he killed. Cliff prayed his assessment was erroneous. He'd much prefer the Scout to be firmly planted on his side than weaving dangerously near the edge of madness.

Cliff could see it in the eyes, in the Scout's every move.

"How desperate must command be to turn you loose on the world?" Cliff wondered.

He was intentionally trying to push the Scout's buttons. If the Scout was going to snap, he'd rather it be here instead of inside a Decepticon stronghold while they were attempting to free prisoners. Where they were going, there could be no distrust between them. Cliff had to be able to rely on the Scout to have his back, and to help defend the sick and wounded they were about to burden themselves with.

The Scout didn't rise to the bait. Cliff wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. The Scout accepted his treacherous fury, but did that mean he was more or less in control?

"Must be nice being you," Cliff went on, still baiting the Scout, "Speak to no one, answer to no one, care about no one, nothing and no one touches you. Do you even see this place for what it is? Or is it just another location? Does it mean anything to you?"

The Scout glared at him, and hopped down to the floor. He moved towards Cliffjumper in a menacing way, and Cliff got to his feet, prepared to defend himself. But the Scout stopped short of the dim light which was beginning to spill into their shelter from above.

He stood still, the shaft of light separating him from Cliff. He would not cross it. Wouldn't risk even a split second in the light, not for an instant would he expose his reflective metal to the beam of light. He would not give away their position, would take no chance anyone was looking, no matter how slim that possibility might be. Cliff understood.

It was those instants, those split-seconds that you thought you were safe, that you didn't have to worry about prying eyes, those were what got you killed. The Scout was taking no chances. That was good. Even provoked, he remembered himself and where he was, a good sign.

Then he began to gesture to the debris around them, to himself, his hand sweeping rapidly back and forth, using the visual signals developed by the military for when you were beyond earshot or needed to be absolutely silent. Cliff understood.

Bumblebee was like the city, broken beyond repair by the Decepticons. He knew what had been lost here on this ground, and what had been lost inside himself. He knew.

"I'm sorry," Cliff said in a low voice, "That was below the t-cog."

The Scout seemed satisfied and sat down with his back against the wall. He looked across at Cliffjumper, but the hostility seemed to have left his eyes for the moment. He did not climb back up to his lookout post, but instead remained on Cliff's level.

He not only knew he was damaged, he knew Cliff had been baiting him. Not only that, but he also seemed to know why. He understood, and was not angry.

Most guys would have been angry if they realized you didn't trust them. It was a point of personal pride that they were trustworthy, that everyone knew they were a good soldier. Nobody wanted to be treated like a traitor. But trust had to be earned. Cliff had met few who would not only tolerate open suspicion, but also accept it and understand it. It was nothing personal, it was only that they didn't know each other, and that things they'd been told held no meaning for them.

"I only believe the things I see," Cliff said, "What I saw today was madness. I need to know I can trust you. You're the one who knows the area as it stands now, the only one who knows where these prisoners are kept. I have to know you'll do your job."

Bumblebee made a fist with his right hand and tapped it against the chest plating that guarded his spark chamber. And then he gestured to Cliffjumper.

"You get me in, I'll get them out," Cliff promised.

Bumblebee nodded in agreement.

* * *

Cliff didn't like that Bumblebee was constantly on point. He felt useless hanging back. Point was the most dangerous position, and a squad would usually put it on rotation, everybody got their turn at being a target. But only Bumblebee knew where they were going, and he didn't seem inclined to tell Cliff anything. He was taking point for himself.

Was it because he wanted first shot at the 'Cons? Or was there a death wish behind his actions?

_Stop it. It's a little late for doubts now. You made an agreement. If his word is worth anything, he'll get you there in one piece. And this is only the first stop. If he's got any sense, he'll save any death wish stunts for the end, when he can't hurt anybody but himself._

Cliff didn't feel better for his reasoning. Bots with a death wish didn't really care anymore. Not about themselves or anyone else. They were unpredictable, still partially Autobot but mostly walking death. You didn't want to be near them if you could avoid it, because they were liable to take you down with them when they finally got their wish.

The Scout stopped suddenly on a ridge, dropping to his belly and gesturing for Cliff to crawl up beside him and take a look at whatever was over the ridge. Cliff crawled up and peered over the edge.

"That looks like the entrance to a subway," Cliff whispered.

But the pair of vehicon guards at the entrance belied that benign perception. It was being guarded, and there could only be one reason for it. Somewhere inside was their objective.

"I'll take these two," Cliff said, "You go inside. Kill anything that moves, but only after you're sure it's not an Autobot. Don't get hung up blasting them into small chunks. Shoot and move forward. I'll be following, but I may be a minute," he nodded upwards.

Perched high on a broken skyscraper was a squad of flying vehicons.

The Scout shook his head, gesturing to the ones on the ground and then himself.

"You wanna draw fire from above huh?" Cliff asked, then shrugged, "Makes sense. Go for it."

The Scout tensed, seeming to change shape as every line of his body shifted, focusing entirely upon the two vehicons on the ground and the entrance to the lair ahead. He didn't transform yet, it would make too much noise. He was calculating his line of attack.

Cliff didn't have to tell him to take it inside as fast as possible. He needed to dash into view, getting the attention of the squad above, but then he had to get out of the line of fire. Bring them down so Cliff had a shot at them, and then get out of the way so Cliff didn't have to worry about catching him in the cross fire. Besides, that entrance was a death trap if he stayed there.

"You sure you can take those two with you?" Cliff asked.

The Scout didn't reply, abruptly launching himself over the ridge. Airborne, he transformed and then came crashing to the ground, roaring towards the entrance with apparently suicidal abandon.

"A Scout after my own spark," Cliff muttered, grinning and shaking his head.

His smile faded as he saw the above vehicons transform and make a strafing run at the ground below. Cliff took aim at the first, and fired. He was an expert marksman. Before his shot found its mark, he had moved along the ridge and taken aim at a second aerial vehicon.

He couldn't keep an eye on Bumblebee, and could only hope the Scout had made it inside as planned.

_Please don't stop to tear them apart,_ Cliff thought, as though he could make the Scout keep moving through sheer force of will, _Just take them down and then keep going._

Great Cybertron, this was insane!

A second vehicon fell to Cliff, and he now left the ridge, knowing his best bet was to catch them by surprise. One thing they wouldn't expect was an Autobot to run straight at them. In the form of jets, they couldn't turn quickly, or with any great precision. They had made the mistake of sweeping past the subway in formation, and now their backs were turned to the advancing Autobot, who fired to his right at them as he ran, his aim hindered by forward motion.

Two more jets fell, screeching as they burst into flames and then crashed into the ground. The leader turned at last, swinging back to fire at Cliff, who ducked into the meager cover of the subway entrance. He fired blind as the jet plunged towards him, its two remaining companions transforming behind it, using their leader's run as cover.

Cliff angled his weapon to fire past the leader, knowing the jet would have to pull up at the last second in order to avoid colliding with the concrete entrance. The two transforming vehicons fell, the jet swept up, back and then around. Cliff fired a single shot, dropping the final vehicon.

Then he turned and fled inside. He found the two guards, one dropped just inside the entrance, the next one a hundred yards further in. He didn't stop to wonder how that had come about. The lights were flickering, blasters had damage them. Darkness loomed up ahead.

The Scout had gone this way, there was no doubt of that. A scorch mark on the wall, then a body farther on marked a clear path. Other tunnels branched off, but Cliff followed the Scout, assuming he knew where he was going, trusting to that, knowing he had no other choice but to flounder blindly through the myriad tunnels-

"_**Tailgate!"**_

The agonized cry momentarily stunned Cliffjumper, echoing and reechoing through the tunnels, bouncing off the walls and colliding with itself, until it seemed to be a choir of screams, the deafening sound unmistakably the wail of mourning, a pained howl of grief for the dead.

Spark pounding, Cliffjumper abandoned caution and raced through the tunnels, seeking not the Scout but the source of the desperate cry, hoping against hope he was wrong, that his every instinct had made some mistake in interpreting the sound. Were they too late? Had they come all this way for nothing?

Worse, had his insistence that they stop and rest the night before gotten someone killed?

Blaster fire up ahead, through a doorway. He plunged through it, barely noticing Bumblebee to his right, firing in blind fury upon two vehicons who were shortly to be a pile of scrap.

A small female Autobot hung from the ceiling straight ahead of him. Cliff didn't know what the substance that held her was, nor did he care. He cut her down, and was surprised to find the Scout right there. Bumblebee had abandoned the kill in favor of their comrade.

He glanced significantly at Cliffjumper while they helped the stricken Autobot to her feet and helped her outside as quickly as her injured condition allowed.

"I couldn't save him," she moaned, eyes wide and unseeing, "I couldn't save my partner."


	20. Chapter 20

Cliff said nothing. He couldn't. If he'd listened to the Scout, to Bumblebee, the night before, they'd have been there sooner. If only he'd listened, then there would have been two to rescue instead of one.

Glancing at the Scout over the head of the small victim they'd saved, he saw barely controlled fury in the face of Bumblebee. It seemed directionless, but Cliffjumper had a feeling it was directed at him.

It was his fault the one called Tailgate was dead. But he couldn't find the words to say that to the Autobot they'd rescued. What might she do if only she knew?

_We could have saved them. Saved them both. If only I'd listened!_

Cliffjumper looked at their rescued comrade, whom he would one day know as Arcee. And he made a silent vow, both to himself and to her.

_I swear by the Allspark, that I will atone for what I've done to you. I won't ever let anyone get hurt because of me again. Never again. I hope one day you can forgive me. That I can tell you the truth. It wasn't your fault, you were a victim here. I was meant to save you. You and your partner. It wasn't you who failed. It was me. I did this to you. I'm sorry._

* * *

"I should have listened to you," Cliffjumper said at last, turning to Bumblebee, "If I had, then Tailgate would still be alive."

Bumblebee winced as though stung and stared at Cliffjumper. When he'd first met Cliffjumper, Bumblebee had thought he was being paired with an arrogant Warrior who believed his rank granted him some kind of special understanding of the universe that was beyond a mere Scout.

But he'd swiftly come to understand that Cliff's apparent arrogance was justified. He was intelligent, and experienced. And he was also fearless in battle. There were few who would enter Airachnid's lair without flinching, but Cliff had intended to go underground first.

He had no thought for himself, his every concern was with those they were trying to rescue. It easily made him Bumblebee's equal, if not superior. He was someone Bumblebee could respect. The first such Autobot he'd met in a long, long time.

The admission that he had been wrong, especially when confessed to a Scout, had to be a severe blow to his Warrior's pride. And Bumblebee knew this Autobot was Warrior in more than rank.

He wished he had the words to explain that it was he who was at fault. If he hadn't spent so much time having Cliffjumper wait while he scouted ahead and dispatched enemies with extreme prejudice, they would have moved through Decepticon territory a lot faster.

It was one thing to distrust others with sensitive information, to maintain distance and avoid sentiment, but this was a Warrior who had been presented with the scenario and been the first to volunteer to be part of it. The only thing Bumblebee had to lose was his life.

He had acted to protect himself, instead of the objective up ahead. Arcee and Tailgate had paid the price for his ill-executed caution. He could have avoided those patrols, instead of stopping to wreck them. Cliffjumper was right not to trust him. He was on the edge, and now realized it was himself that he couldn't trust.

But he couldn't say any of that. His voice...

"The next time you tell me something, I won't doubt you," Cliffjumper went on, "You know this area, and stealth missions are your bag. You proved you know what you're doin'."

It had been a long night, and the shell-shocked Arcee could not travel quickly. When he had been here before, Bumblebee had scouted a number of locations for hiding freed prisoners. He had anticipated returning here, though not like this.

It had taken half the night to get there. The chosen spot was the shelled out remains of an office building, the bottom three floors still partially intact. The second floor was their chosen ground, they could see out the gaping holes in the wall that had once served as windows. There was a good view of the surrounding area and they were in a dead area of Decepticon territory.

The Decepticons would be looking for whoever had decimated their ranks in the area, but they were hunting for a rogue. That was all Airachnid had seen. Bumblebee didn't know her personally, but he had observed her quick retreat, too swift for him to shift his fire to her.

He wished he could have done that, ended the nightmare for Arcee. For there was no doubt in his mind but that the nightmare for Arcee would never be over for so long as Airachnid lived. He knew that just as surely as he knew he would never be able to rest until Megatron was ended.

It occurred to him that he'd learned Arcee's name. Normally, he would have avoided such knowledge. Attachment was a thing he could not afford in his line. He'd put himself before her for that reason. At the time he was crossing the territory, she was merely a possibility, a potential survivor who might be rescued. Bumblebee was real, alive, and had to stay that way to complete the mission.

The _mission_. Well he'd failed at that, and it was Arcee who suffered the consequences.

He tore his gaze from Arcee, and looked out at the burned and broken skeleton of the former city, now a ruin. Like himself. Ruined by the hand of Megatron.

He managed to gather his fragmented thoughts enough to make a series of gestures that Cliffjumper could understand. He wanted to communicate that he now trusted Cliffjumper, that he would respect the Warrior's judgment. Cliffjumper had been right when he insisted they rest.

If they hadn't, then they probably wouldn't have made it out of the lair alive. But Cliffjumper never should have had to make that choice. Bumblebee should have gotten them through faster. He couldn't convey all of that, but he could say that Cliffjumper had his trust and respect and he could try to communicate that it was his fault, not Cliff's or Arcee's. He was to blame for Tailgate.

Cliffjumper didn't seem to understand the second series of gestures. Or he chose not to. But Bumblebee couldn't bring himself to speak, to give voice to his own handicap.

_What good is a Scout with no voice?_

* * *

Cliffjumper took the first watch. He insisted. The Scout hadn't given indication of it, but he was tired. It didn't look like it, but scouting was hard work. You had to be very alert, aware of everything around you, ready to act at the slightest provocation, to run or to hide. It was also very stressful, because often you were wired about nothing, those few times when things went wrong made the thousand and one times nothing happened all the worse.

The Scout seemed distracted, and less coherent than he'd been before. His admittedly limited choice of communication hadn't made any sense earlier. He seemed to be indicating that he'd done something, been responsible for something, but Cliff couldn't make heads or tails of what it was.

There'd also been an emotionally charged reaction to seeing Arcee. Cliff wondered if the Scout knew her, or if she merely reminded him of someone he'd lost. Or maybe, like Cliff, he felt guilty for not having been just a little faster. Maybe that's what he'd been trying to say earlier.

In any case, the Scout needed to rest, to gather up the emotions that seemed to have suddenly overflowed and put them back in the box where they belonged, out of his way. Cliff knew you couldn't turn emotions off, but you could save them for later. Now was not the time for emotion.

Now was the time for the coldly calculating Scout who had started this mission. The one who had recognized his weakness, the desire for vengeance, and turned it to his advantage, setting the 'Cons to hunt for a nonexistent killer. They had a few days left, they had to find others like Arcee.

If there were others who could be saved. If not, then Arcee would have to be enough. Cliff glanced at her, sleeping fitfully in the opposite corner from Bumblebee, muttering in her sleep, brow furrowed. If only she knew how much he needed her to make it through.

She had to recover, had to keep fighting. Cliff wasn't sure he could live with himself if neither she nor Tailgate made it out of the lair because he hadn't listened to the Scout. He needed her to be okay, to prove that his mistake had not been completely fatal.

She needed to be an example, proof that you could survive capture and torture. She needed to be a walking, talking inspiration to the demoralized ranks of the Autobots. You could go into the dark and come back alive. You could suffer unimaginably and still survive.

An odd sound drew Cliff's attention away from Arcee, towards the corner where the Scout was. It was sort of a buzzing, whirring, and it took Cliff a second to recognize the basic speech pattern inherent to the sound. It was coming from Bumblebee. He too was muttering in his sleep, the sentences only in pieces, the words meaningless. But the sound of his voice meant everything.

Cliffjumper had heard of it before, though he'd never seen a survivor. He'd known the Scout had been captured and tortured, but he hadn't realized that Megatron himself had been involved, or that the Scout had been found after Megatron left him for dead.

A signature of the bodies of those tortured by Megatron who refused to speak was that their voice boxes were crushed before they were left to die. None had ever been found alive that Cliff knew of. They bled out before anyone found them. But Bumblebee... he was a survivor.

_No wonder he wouldn't talk to me. And no wonder he's so angry. A Scout without a voice. Except... he does have a voice. Broken as he may be, he can still speak._

It was obvious that the Scout was having a nightmare. Without really thinking, Cliff went over to shake him awake. He wasn't sure why he did that, it was just an impulse he followed. A second later, he realized it was an action he would regret for the rest of his life.

The second Cliff touched him, the Scout sprang into action. A shout escaped him as he shot upright into a sitting position, catching Cliff's wrist in one hand, twisting it downward and to the side while he brought up his free hand in a smooth motion, leveling a blaster against Cliff's chest.

But it wasn't the pain of his twisted arm or the fear of being shot that froze Cliff where he was. It wasn't even the nearly black eyes of the Scout that glared at him without awareness for a moment as Bumblebee scrambled to regain his faculties. It was the one word contained within the staccato cry that had erupted from the Scout upon waking.

_{Viper!}_

Cliff's spark seemed to go dark for a moment, as he realized fully the implications behind the broken and scattered mutterings produced by the Scout's dream. Putting the words together, Cliff formed the picture of a Scout who was stalked for days, then attacked without warning from behind, left crippled for a roving Megatron to find and torture. Pit Viper had not only survived, but he had never left.

Pain shot through Cliff's chest as he realized what he'd done in letting Pit Viper live. This Scout had lost his voice, and what seemed to be a good portion of his sanity, because of the Viper.

Bumblebee shook himself and lowered his weapon, releasing Cliffjumper's arm and looking away abashedly. Cliff knew he had to say something, and that he could never admit that it was he who had done this to the Scout. If Bumblebee knew, he'd kill Cliff in an instant. Whether or not he deserved that in the end, Cliff knew that here and now was not the place. He knew also that such vengeance would destroy whatever was left of the Scout's mind.

It was a guilt, a secret that must be taken to the grave. Not for his own sake, confession would make him feel better. For the sake of the Scout who had already suffered for Cliff's lapse in judgment.

"So you _can_ talk," he said, finding his own voice at last.

The Scout looked at him, but said nothing.

"All this time, you could have said something, and you didn't. Why not?" Cliff asked.

It was unclear whether Bumblebee didn't want to answer or if he was still shaking off the last remnants of his nightmare, a bad memory brought to life in dreams.

_{I was... am... ashamed.}_

Bumblebee's halting confession left Cliff speechless for a moment. He couldn't figure for the life of him what the Scout had to be ashamed of. He said so. Or rather, he asked.

"Ashamed? Great Cybertron! Of what?" He demanded, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing Arcee.

_{Can't you hear?} _the Scout returned quietly, as though that was an answer.

"I can hear," Cliff said, "Can you?"

The Scout cocked his head quizzically. Cliff sighed wearily.

"Alright, kid. Why don't you tell me what you're ashamed of, and I'll tell you what I hear."

_{I'm broken, Cliffjumper. Like this city we lost, like the Cybertron that's slowly dying because of this war we're losing. And we _are_ losing. Everyone knows it. And my voice, or what's left of it, is just another reminder of that fact. Another reason to stop trying. I met the enemy head on, and lost. Listen to me. My voice is what happens if you don't quit while you're ahead. That's what anyone who hears me will think. That we don't stand a chance. I'm broken, to be pitied. You don't think I heard what the medic said to you? You don't think I know what went through your mind? Well I don't want to be pitied, it's not an emotion we can afford on the field of battle. Hearing my voice will only lead Autobots made weary by an endless and seemingly futile war to wonder, 'what's the point?'}_


	21. Chapter 21

"That's what you hear?" Cliff said in disbelief, shaking his head, "You think you're broken, that Bots will think you were defeated?"

_{I was damaged beyond repair. Like this city, possibly even like our world will be. What else could anyone think?}_

"You survived," Cliff replied in a cold voice, "When you stared into the face of the Pit itself, you spat in its eye. And you _survived_."

_{For all the good it did.}_

"Self pity isn't something Bots like you and I can indulge in, kid," Cliff said harshly, "We are the ones still alive and kicking, which means we have a responsibility to the ones who aren't. The ones like Tailgate. The ones we couldn't save, the ones who died fighting for what we believe in. We're not here to avenge them, revenge only gets you killed and that's not respecting the memory of the dead. We're here to finish what they started, because they can't. Because they died so we could live."

There was silence for a long moment, and Cliff wondered if Bumblebee intended to speak again. Then, very quietly, almost more to himself than to Cliff, he spoke.

_{I made a promise. When I was dying. I don't know if I saw the well of Allsparks, or just the inside of my own head. Either way, I swore that, if I survived, I'd spend the rest of my life making sure Megatron regretted what he'd done. To stop him from succeeding. I'm willing to die for that.}_

"Dyin' is easy, kid," Cliff commented, "And there's no deal you can make with Death that'll bring you back. You survived because it wasn't your time. Because you have something to give to this war. Something nobody else does."

_{What's that?}_

"Your voice. You're still alive, so you better respect those who aren't. You shouldn't be silent because you _still_ have a voice. There are those less fortunate than you. Not just Tailgate. But also ones like Arcee, lost in shock and fear. You have the opportunity to try and bring her, and others, back. To tell them that seeing the heart of darkness, the beast they're really fighting, doesn't have to be the end. I believe that your voice can do that. Be the proof that all isn't lost. That we can survive."

* * *

Cliffjumper couldn't know that the report he wrote after returning from the rescue mission would one day, not even that far in the future, come to the attention of Optimus Prime who was searching for the right Scout to complete a most unique and quite possibly dangerous assignment.

Optimus knew of Bumblebee, of course. He'd met the Scout more than once. In fact, Bumblebee was his preferred Scout when he needed one. Bumblebee was reliable, and he was fearless but always cautious. He would fight whenever and wherever it became necessary, take whatever steps were required to insure victory, no matter how dangerous or difficult they might be. But he also knew when to favor stealth over fighting, and was capable of guiding one or even many through the most densely populated hostile territory unnoticed, if not unseen.

But Cliffjumper's report was the first he'd seen since Bumblebee had been captured. He hadn't seen the Scout in some time, and the soldier Cliffjumper described was not the same one he had known. And yet, he was somehow exactly what Optimus had expected. And exactly what was needed.

The decision was made almost at once. He wanted the Scout recalled from wherever he was now, and brought to him. If he could have, he would have gone to find Bumblebee himself. The Scout deserved that much courtesy considering what Optimus was going to tell him, and then ask of him.

Word got out inside of a week, and the Scout came in from the field and was shipped straight to Optimus at one of the few remaining Autobot bases.

_{Reporting as ordered, sir.}_

Optimus noted that Bumblebee did not identify himself by name. Protocol dictated that he do so, but many Scouts of his caliber had developed the habit of withholding that information. Typically they did so to protect themselves from potential traitors, but Optimus didn't think that was the reason here.

Bumblebee knew Optimus had gone to some lengths to see that he arrived here, and was undoubtedly already well aware of his name, even aside from their having met before. Optimus let the impertinence slide this time. There were more important things to discuss.

"Cybertron is dying," Optimus said, getting right to the issue at hand, "You shouldn't look so surprised. It was you who drew my attention to that fact, which has gone ignored for too long. You know that you are among the youngest Cybertronians in existence, one of the last to have come online. You know as well as I that the end is near, regardless of who strikes the winning blow in the war."

_{I am aware,}_ the Scout admitted, _{But I choose not to dwell on the negative. We are not dead, and so we have no right to act like we are.}_

"Be that as it may, we need a contingency plan. In case evacuation becomes necessary."

_{What would you have me do?}_

"There is a planet some distance from here, known as Earth. I need you to scout it, determine the nature of its lifeforms and methods of evasion. Make no mistake, this is a planet belonging to others, not us. We cannot behave as Decepticons. We must coexist, or conceal ourselves. We must not interfere with the lives of these creatures, or hinder their development. It is their planet, not ours. Do you understand?"

_{Covert op. Observe and report back,}_ the Scout said crisply, _{Do not engage. If captured, do not resist with violence. Understood, sir.}_

"Bumblebee," Optimus said slowly, "I have to make sure you really do understand. You cannot, for any reason whatsoever, harm the creatures of that planet. No matter what."

The Scout nodded, this time saying nothing.

"Take a good look around, because you may never see this planet again. Get some rest, you leave in the morning. Dismissed."

Bumblebee nodded again, turned and walked out. He didn't even ask how he was meant to communicate his findings over such distances, or how he was supposed to get there in the first place. Those details were taken care of, naturally, but the Scout didn't even ask about them. He was putting a lot of faith in Optimus. If asked, the Scout would have replied simply that he'd go where he was sent, do what was asked of him, everything else be damned.

Optimus hoped he was making the right decision. If he was not, there was no telling how high the cost might be, especially for the Scout he was sending out into the unknown.

But then, that's what Scouts were for. It's what they did. But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous.

There were many reasons to send Bumblebee rather than any other Scout. He was experienced, he was exceptionally skilled. But he was also dangerous.

Cliffjumper's report detailed a Scout teetering on the edge of becoming a rogue. Optimus hoped some distance from the Decepticons and the war itself would help stabilize the Scout. He didn't want to lose Bumblebee, he was the best Scout the Autobot army had.

What the Scout did not know was that Optimus had an ulterior motive. Energon was in short supply and constant demand. Worse, the Decepticons were better at taking it than the Autobots were. They were at once stealthier and more aggressive. And their numbers were greater.

There seemed only one course, and that was to hide energon somewhere beyond Decepticon reach. Bumblebee was not the only Scout being sent out to find a place to hide energon. But he was one of the few who knew that the real reason for doing so was that Optimus anticipated evacuation.

That was, in part, why he did not discuss it. Bumblebee knew the score, perhaps better than anyone. He would know that energon must be taken to locations off world for the Autobots to stand a chance of surviving without Cybertron. Once again, the specifics did not need to be discussed. He either knew them, or did not care to know them.

* * *

That night, Bumblebee dreamed.

Once again, he was reaching for the truth buried in his memory, locked away to protect him from himself. He remembered little of the specifics of past pain and torment, all had blurred together in one intense moment of suffering, lived over and over in dreams, the memories coming unbidden and never leaving entirely in spite of what Bumblebee could do to dismiss them.

Only now he remembered something he had seen. After he'd been captured, as he was led away, he'd turned his head to see... if only he could remember it. It was something, a wide arch stretching away overhead, standing like a monolith, glowering down at all who passed.

But it wasn't made of stone, it was a marvel of technology beyond anything Bumblebee had seen before. What he didn't know was that this was a Space Bridge, or the prototype for one anyway. He had described it in detail to the bot who'd debriefed him after he'd been found.

He didn't know where it had gone from there, and he didn't really care.

It wasn't this scene that was haunting him. It was something before this. Something had happened to him, there was a face he couldn't recognize, a voice whose words he couldn't quite hear.

* * *

_2011, Earth_

Bumblebee stirred. It was night. He was alone. But not really. Never alone. Always there were the fallen, the dead whom he had a responsibility to honor. He could not believe he had forgotten, even for an instant, what Cliffjumper had said.

He had a voice, he must not be silent. He had four wheels, he must not be still. He had a mind, he must think. He had a weapon, he must fight back. If not for himself, than for all of those who had died, for the belief they had carried with them to their graves. He must finish what they started, because he could and they could not.

"_When Megatron breaks you, tell him it was Pit Viper who gave you to him."_

The distantly remembered words jolted Bumblebee fully out of his doze. He had forgotten those words because they were followed by so much pain, his only defense had been to blank out his mind. He had effectively shut himself down, thinking nothing. There had been nothing but the pain, nothing except the torment. He resigned himself to the fact it would never end, convinced his own mind that there was nothing he could do to make it stop.

Megatron had wrung screams from him, but no words. If only he'd known how close Bumblebee had been to breaking. As his voice box was crushed, Bumblebee had actually spoken a word. Only one before he could not speak at all, and Megatron had believed it was a curse. _Pit_.

Megatron had assumed it was a reference to the Pit. But it had been the first part of the name of the one who had wounded him, incapacitated him and left him for Megatron to find. The Viper.

If only Megatron had known. If only Bumblebee had remembered.

The Viper who pursued him was the same as the one long ago. The one who had cost him his voice, and very nearly his life. The Viper was after him once again.

But was it the real one, or only the distant memory of that ghost in the darkness who had come out of nowhere, killed so many in one violent act and then left Bumblebee to be tortured by another? Was he being chased by memory, or by reality?

He didn't know. But he was closer now. Closer to an answer. And closer to... _home_.

Not fully comprehending that thought, Bumblebee let himself fall back into sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

_2011, Earth_

Raf was not a person normally prone to anger. In a large family, one had to be quick to stamp out any feelings of jealousy or resentment. One could foster such emotions towards people they didn't have to live with, and survive the consequences. Not so when you had a big family with everyone living together. You had to tolerate the family member that insisted on putting their bath towel where you wanted yours to be, put up with someone hogging the toaster in the mornings, and quietly accept that your sister or brother took your favorite drinking cup for themselves. For the most part, the offenders were unaware of their transgressions and, if you pointed them out, all you'd do would be to make them feel bad, or cause them to be irritated by how petty you were.

Being the youngest in a big family, Raf had learned acceptance. While there were certain advantages to being the youngest, there were also many downsides. One being that, when you moved house, the choice of rooms was assigned by ages, the oldest getting first pick. Being the smallest had a severe disadvantage when it came to riding in a car. You got the smallest spot because you would fit. The luxury of elbow and leg room was one that larger people, older people, didn't fully appreciate. Never having gone without, they didn't know what a wonderful feeling it was to be able to stretch your legs while riding in a car. Nor did they fully understand the oppression of being elbowed in the side all the way to and from grandma's house.

But he could not accept the way the Autobots seemed to casually dismiss the matter of Bumblebee, the way they carefully avoided acknowledging his absence in any way. He couldn't put up with Jack and Miko trying to make him feel better, like they were taking the side of the Autobots. Most of all, he couldn't stand that Bumblebee had been kicked when he was down, then chased away from the only home and family he had here on Earth.

It wasn't fair. Life never was. But, more importantly, it wasn't right.

As Raf packed items into his backpack the night before he set out to find Bumblebee, he remembered the day they'd met. The Cybertronians were so big, and the fight they were having seemed so intense and important to them. But Bumblebee had taken time out to apologize to Raf for stepping on his little toy car. Raf, such a small, insignificant thing in comparison with the Cybertronians. Though it had been a blow to him to see his car smashed, it had astonished him that Bumblebee had even noticed. He was barely a fly in comparison to the Autobots and Decepticons.

Bee had noticed Raf then. It was time someone did the same for him.

Raf had reluctantly left his laptop and cell phone behind. He didn't want the Autobots, or anyone else, tracking him down. He had no intention of coming back. Not until he found Bee.

Maybe everyone else could forget about Bee, pretend like he never existed, but Raf couldn't. No matter what was said about Bumblebee, Raf couldn't just leave him out there alone.

Especially not when he had his own apology to make. For a moment, just a moment, he'd felt afraid of Bumblebee. Not because he thought Bee might turn on him, not really. Just... because... well, he'd never really consciously realized how dangerous Bumblebee truly was. Sure, he'd seen Bee take down Decepticons, and felt the ground shake when the Cybertronians fought. But it was different when it was another human person. Somehow, that made the awesome power of the Cybertronians real. Really real. And Raf had been afraid, because he'd realized just how easy it would be for Bee to seriously hurt him, or even kill him. He'd always known Bee was gentle and careful around him. He just hadn't entirely realized _how_ careful.

He knew Bumblebee had seen his fear. And he knew that was a wound deeper than any Decepticon could inflict. He had to find Bee, and explain, and then apologize. He had to make Bumblebee understand that he wasn't afraid of him. Bumblebee had never hurt him, and never would.

More than that, Raf had realized fully that Bumblebee would give his life to protect Raf's. It was another thing he'd known, but somehow that fact hadn't fully impressed itself upon him. Now it had. And maybe that had scared Raf more than anything.

That depth of loyalty was not often displayed in the world Raf knew. It was humbling, and also absolutely terrifying. If anything happened to Bee, it could very easily be because of Raf.

Raf had gotten to the age that he at least pretended all of his childhood fears had gone away. The imaginary monsters that had plagued his thoughts before he fell asleep at night in the dark had been replaced by creatures at least based in reality. Sometimes it seemed that the difference between children and adults is that adults had names for their fears, and for some reason adults engaged in a game with all the people around them, where each pretended his own fears were nothing but a joke to him.

But when Raf set out from his house that night, he couldn't think of any jokes. He couldn't think of names for his fears. Some of the monsters lurking in the dark might have been real. But mostly, Raf realized that the fear of the dark he thought he'd left behind at eight years old was still with him. He could deny it in the safety of his own bedroom, but talking himself out of it, rationalizing.

In his room, he could see the four walls and locked window would keep out any beasts of nightmare. His parents were just down the hall, all he had to do was call out and they would come. He knew the shapes of everything in his room, so his desk and chair didn't become a hulking shape in the dark anymore. But outside, there were no walls. Every shadow was strange and alien to him.

Raf was half-tempted to just turn around and go back inside. He'd never run away from home before.

But he sternly told himself to knock it off. He wasn't running from anything. He was going to find his friend. And if there were monsters in the dark, doubtless they were stalking his friend too. Bumblebee was out there alone. And, big and powerful as he was, he was vulnerable. Especially now.

It didn't occur to Raf just how far away Bee might be, or how long it might take just to cover the immediate area. Raf had, perhaps, read too many comic books or watched too much television. In either case, or perhaps for some other reason altogether, Raf felt that he would somehow be guided to Bumblebee, like he knew where Bee would go without actually visualizing the place or giving it name.

And maybe that was true.

Though Raf set out before Bumblebee's altercation with Knockout and Soundwave, before Bumblebee had even turned in the direction of the Autobot base and subsequently attempted to fake his own death, and though he didn't really know it, he set out for the hill where it had all started, heading for the place he'd first seen the Viper and last seen Bumblebee.

Raf had never fully appreciated his sense of direction, largely because his parents had never commented on it. But they had noticed that he sometimes remarked that they were going in the same direction on the road to one place as to another, even though the scenery was different. He'd started doing that before he learned the terms East and West, North and South.

So he headed the way his gut told him to. And, though he used different streets to get there and didn't have a map with him, he headed virtually without error towards the place he'd last seen his friend, even though it was irrational that Bumblebee would be there.

It was also much too far to walk. Raf would never get there on foot.

If he'd been a bit older, Raf might have realized the hopelessness of this endeavor. But he wasn't, and he didn't. What he also didn't realize was that one of the monsters he told himself he was imagining was not a projection of his mind. It was, in fact, quite real. And it was stalking him almost from the moment he left his house.

* * *

Pit Viper smiled grimly to himself. Clever Scout. In truth, he hadn't been sure that the Scout was still online until he'd gotten a chance to examine the scene of the Scout's "accident". Hacking into the Decepticon's radio frequency had been not only easy, but wise. He'd been nearly certain of the Scout's condition based off of what he heard over the radio. And entirely sure when he examined the scene of battle. Finding chips of yellow paint on the ground along with a few tiny shreds of metal from Soundwave's beloved Laserbeak told him all he needed.

He had made a few mistakes. He'd pushed the Scout too far, too fast. But his biggest mistake was not attaching a tracking device when he'd had the chance. He'd nailed the Scout early on, and it was then that he'd attached the communication device to the underside of the Scout's hood. He'd performed the repairs necessary to keep the Scout going but still unstable.

He'd kept baiting, but the Scout had not responded. The Scout had never responded the way he wanted. Pit Viper was not surprised. When he lost track of the Scout, he knew it wouldn't be long before his elaborate web came down. Only by pushing the Scout constantly, driving him to his limits was it possible to keep the deception intact. The moment he got a chance to breathe, the Scout must have realized the truth. That had been a given all along. Pit Viper had been hoping to keep the Scout under his control, but that was no longer possible.

Maybe it never had been the way he'd been going about it.

Pit Viper had traced both Autobots and Decepticons to this pitiful planet not long ago. He had no interest in regaining Megatron's favor anymore. He had laid the most valuable informant that ever existed at Megatron's feet and the fool threw it away, not even using the Scout as a bargaining chip.

Certainly Pit Viper understood leaving bodies around as a message, the precise method of execution where silent prisoners were concerned had been his design. Remain silent, and you will die. But not only that, you will die slowly, unable to even scream. A message to any others who might one day be captured. Even if you were killed, which was inevitable, it would be quicker and easier if you cooperated. And at least you would be able to cry out.

Voluntary silence was one thing, forced silence another.

But this Scout, of all of them... he was valuable. Not only for what he knew, but also what he was capable of. Megatron could have laid a trap for Autobots coming for the Scout, or he could have exchanged the Scout for something he wanted. Or claimed he was going to anyway.

He threw away a golden opportunity and in so doing lost any respect Pit Viper had still had for him. Pit Viper wanted Megatron dead. He didn't want to lead the Decepticons to glory, he just wanted them dead. All of them, for what they'd done to him. They'd cast him out, and then spit in his face when he'd offered a gift of peace. He was done serving them.

Secondarily, Pit Viper wanted the Autobots dead. Perhaps it was a last vestige of his former loyalty to Megatron, but he hated the Autobots with every fiber of his being, and he wanted them dead. Optimus Prime especially, but any and all of the Autobots would do. He'd hoped to turn the Scout on them, or at least send him back to their base so he could finish them himself.

Converting the Scout into a drone in his service was not a one-step process. But he could have gotten there eventually, given the time. But not anymore. Now the Scout was recovering from the shock, remembering clearly that he had checked Pit Viper before attacking, knowing for sure now that he'd seen no human and that Pit Viper was no Earth vehicle.

In truth, the human had been a lucky accident. Pit Viper had found the Scout, and been following him, trying to find his weakness, to find a way into his head.

Pit Viper had been attacked by a number of humans, though he was unclear what their motivations were. With no small amount of gleeful abandon, he'd run over them, killing them without even bothering to transform. Looking at the bodies after the fact, he'd suddenly known exactly how to get into the Scout's head.

He had seen how careful the Scout was with humans, how he not only avoided revealing his existence, but also respected their traffic laws and treated them as though they were priceless and fragile artifacts. There was even one human he allowed to ride around with him. He didn't just trust that human, he loved it like a pet... no, like family.

Threaten the human boy and the Scout would succumb to a deep, unthinking rage. Even if he did not abandon all restraint, he would not clearly remember the events as they would be clouded in a haze of anger followed by deep regret as a result of seeing the human he believed himself to have killed.

As he had done years before, Pit Viper now cut the Scout off. Alone, he was vulnerable, weak, easy to manipulate. That had always been the key to Pit Viper's success. You get them alone, and pressure them beyond what they can cope with, and then give them a way out, a release for their anxiety.

But the Scout had escaped. Or so he believed.

Pit Viper was not unduly concerned. If he couldn't get the Scout to do what he wanted, there were other ways, other plans. He had all the time in the world. The reason he had singled out the Scout was very simple: he wanted the Scout dead too.

Not just because he was an Autobot, but because he was the unbreakable. He had survived when he should have died. It was Pit Viper's method of execution, and the Scout had made a joke of it, coming away with nothing worse than a damaged voice box.

Pit Viper had been among the most feared names during the Great War, a legend even in his own time, never forgotten even unto the end of Cybertron itself. And that miserable, insignificant Autobot... a Scout!... had made a joke out of him by surviving.

If the Scout would not serve, then Pit Viper would silence him once and for all.

But not before he broke him. It wasn't enough for the Scout to die, he must also break.

That, Pit Viper knew, was going to be the easy part.

Pit Viper knew he would not be able to find the Scout in a timely fashion. Not with the Scout in hiding as he was, not when the Scout was hunting him. There was only one practical method. He would bring the Scout to him. And the Scout would come, for the same reason he had attacked before.

Because of the boy, the Scout would come to surface.

And then, Pit Viper would kill him.


	23. Chapter 23

It wasn't raining, but it felt like it should have been. It wasn't even the beginning of a cloudy day, though it again felt like it ought to be just that. That's how it always was on television, something Jack, Miko and Raf watched with bemusing frequency.

_Raf_.

Bumblebee didn't have to wonder why that had been his first thought when the first rays of dawn light sought him out from the shadows which had been his bed the night before.

He hadn't been looking after the boy for long. Hell, the boy hadn't even been alive for very long. Bumblebee had been on Earth longer than the boy had existed in the world. He'd known the boy for only a short span, and knew that, barring death in the war, he would outlive the boy by more than a little. The boy would be there and gone, just a bare flicker in the lifespan of a Cybertronian.

But the length of time you knew someone didn't have anything to do with the impact they have on your life and who you are. Even without orders, Bumblebee would have become devoted to the tiny human who understood him, who trusted him even in that first encounter, when he was nothing but a towering robot doing battle with another, not dissimilar robot.

Perhaps it was the nature of humans to trust quickly and completely or not at all. After all, they had such short lives, they certainly didn't have time to think all things over as thoroughly as an Autobot could. But the relative shortness of their lives was not without its upside. Short as their lives were, they didn't have time for long periods of reflection. They could not spend a hundred years mourning the world that had changed around them. Nor were they burdened with centuries of guilt and regret.

Instead of rusting in their old age, slowly becoming unable to do anything but replay their life in their mind over and over as they gradually faded away, humans began to lose their faculties. They began to forget. If they were lucky or had lived well, they would remember the good. People acted like it was some kind of terrible tragedy when their aged relatives stopped being able to work or drive themselves as hard as before, worse still if those relatives failed to recall a conversation of minutes past.

Bumblebee didn't see it that way. He'd seen elderly people before. Crippled as they appeared to be, weak as they became, the vast majority of them seemed pleased with themselves and their lives, content with their infirmities and peacefully resigned to telling the same stories a thousand times over and never recalling that they'd told those stories before, becoming distressed only when younger people tried to pry them out of their happiness and into the torment of reality.

"Don't you see what's happening to you?" they seemed to ask.

But that was the beauty of it. The elderly either didn't see or calmly accepted. The youngsters seemed blinded to this, as though their reality was the one everyone must and should exist in. As though pain and misery and fragmented memories were a thing of vital import, things that ought to be constantly acknowledged and fretted over and fought against.

Why not let the dying alone? Why not let them have their joy and rest? Why try to force them into something that they were no longer fit for?

You wouldn't ask someone in a wheelchair to win the Olympic jumping championship (was there such a thing? Bumblebee didn't know, but Raf had explained to him that people in wheelchairs couldn't use their legs, which was a concept he understood readily enough), nor would you expect someone without limbs to win the hundred meter dash (that one was real, Bumblebee thought). You couldn't expect a blind person to take a good photograph. So why did people insist on trying to make those with failing memories remember, especially to make them remember things they'd rather forget? Wasn't the here and the now more important than remembering what they had for breakfast that morning? Wasn't the time spent with them worth its weight in gold because their was so little of it, regardless of what might be said? Couldn't people hear the voices of their loved ones?

_Get off it, Bee. You'll never understand humans._

He agreed with himself. He didn't even understand himself half the time. Here he was, alone in the world, with nowhere to go, nothing to do about it, just waiting for some kind of end, and he was thinking about senior citizens of Earth, people he'd never even had much contact with.

Then again, he had parked in the lot in front of what appeared to be a nursing home. He wasn't entirely clear on the concept as Raf had explained it. Evidently Raf's grandmother, or one of them, lived in such a place with a bunch of other old people. Apparently, she'd turn the stove on in the mornings or afternoons and then wander off and forget about it. Raf had mentioned that his parents had instructed her not to try cooking things anymore, then went on to detail that she would wait for them to leave and then try cooking for herself anyway. Nearly burned the house down once.

That part of the story didn't surprise Bee as much as it apparently should have. Raf had acted as though it was new for his grandmother to ignore his parents' instructions, like that was a product of old age. Bumblebee didn't get that. In his experience, humans never did what you told them, especially as they got older and considered themselves to be more responsible and to "know better than you". Chances were, she didn't recall the danger of turning the stove on (seeing as she forgot it was on at all) and therefore thought her daughter and son-in-law were just being overprotective or even disrespectful.

And so, in the end, they'd been forced to put her in a home because she had become dangerous.

_I wonder what would have happened if we Autobots had tried to take care of those who went rogue._

The thought struck him like a physical blow. _He_ was a rogue now. Dangerous, unpredictable, untrustworthy. But still... still what? Loved? By whom? Optimus had been gravely disappointed, Raf had been afraid. So what? What did he have left to hope for?

The thoughts weren't helpful. Nothing that entered his mind this morning seemed relevant to anything. Not that it mattered anymore. He'd already reached his limit, and was prepared to just sit here until something, he wasn't sure what, happened.

He'd expected the Viper to have shown up by now, real or not. He had no plan now that it hadn't worked out as he expected. Not that waiting for either his madness or an old enemy to come and destroy him was a plan. It wasn't. Not exactly.

A fraction before he heard the voice reverberating through him, Bumblebee tensed. It wasn't exactly precognition, but he had the sudden sensation (humans called it a 'gut feeling') that there was danger. That he was going to have to fight. He didn't have time to form a coherent thought about it.

_{Hello, Scout. Do you remember the young lady you liberated? The one that killed a human in your backseat, and left his blood to stain your body? You remember where that happened? I do.}_

Bumblebee suppressed a low growl, part revulsion at the memory and part hatred of that damned voice, but he did not respond to it, instead sitting in silence. Subconsciously, he was preparing to run. Or rather, drive. Very fast. He knew where he was going, but had no idea why. He could think of no reason he would ever return to that accursed place. Viper then gave him a reason.

_{I thought it would be fun to tell that story to a friend of yours. Speak into the mike, kid.}_

Bumblebee couldn't hold back the inarticulate snarl of rage when he heard Raf's voice, tinny and faint over the radio, a cry of pain, or fear, without words. He didn't make threats. There was no point.

_{After that, I'd like a replay of our earlier encounter. Only this time, the passenger will still be alive. That is, until I run over him. Just like the other, Scout. Just like the other.}_

Bumblebee did not even process that he'd just been cleared. The human he believed he'd killed had already been dead. He didn't even realize what the Viper had told him. He knew only his anger, only hate, and only urgency that he get to where the Viper was before it killed Raf.

He didn't even stop to think that maybe this too came from his imagination. He forgot the possibility of his own insanity. In the face of this threat, there was only one thing he could do.

Bumblebee was going to kill the Viper.

He left reason in the parking lot, along with uncertainty. All he had left was fury. He wasn't out for revenge. Not really. Like all those years ago, searching for POWs, Bumblebee was out to end this as quickly as he could. If it was bloody, so be it. He'd tear this world to pieces before he'd see harm come to Raf. And anything or anyone who got in his way was going to die.

_Anyone_.

* * *

"Hey... what's that noise?"

Arcee and Jack had just returned to the base after searching fruitlessly for Raf. Bulkhead and Miko weren't back yet, nor was Optimus. Thus the question had been addressed to Ratchet, who was scowling rather deeply at the information displayed on his various computer monitors.

Arcee cocked her head to the side, listening to the foreign sound. A sort of high pitched whistling noise, she judged. Glancing down, it came to her attention that Jack found the noise almost unbearable, as he'd immediately covered his ears. She decided something must be done about it, whatever it was.

"Where's it coming from?" she demanded of Ratchet.

"Where do you think?" Ratchet grunted, waving vaguely towards the computer whose job it was to handle their radio communications with one another.

"Think you could turn it down?" Arcee asked, glancing significantly in Jack's direction.

Ratchet grunted irritably.

"I've been trying. Short of turning the sound off, it's not going to get any quieter. And what I'm actually worried about at the moment, as you should be, is where this is coming from."

Arcee paused at that. That was obviously the important thing. But she'd been thinking about Bumblebee and Raf and now Jack... she'd been distracted.

"So... uh... what is it?" Jack asked, shouting over the noise.

"Blasted if I know," Ratchet answered, not sparing Jack a glance.

"Can you trace it?" Arcee wanted to know.

"The source appears to be in motion. Whatever it is, it's moving fast."

"How fast?" Arcee asked sharply.

* * *

A shrill whistle brought Soundwave up short. So intense and unexpected as the offending noise that he actually wobbled and nearly dropped from his flight path entirely. It was coming through his radio channel, which he'd left open for Knockout. Faintly, he could hear Knockout's surprised response. It wasn't coming from Knockout, but he heard it too.

Someone had hacked into the Decepticon's communication network.

Soundwave wasted no time pinning down the source, which was not far but moving rapidly, though it seemed to be something tied to the ground rather than something airborne. Soundwave wheeled at once to run down the source, and destroy it. He would not stand for anyone hacking his network.

As communications chief, it was his responsibility to ensure the security of the Decepticon radio frequency. His responsibility to kill anything and anyone who threatened that security. Forget the Scout, forget Pit Viper, this took priority. For Soundwave, this was personal.


	24. Chapter 24

Bumblebee had to return to the memory of that night. He avoided thinking of the girl, the blood which had sunk into the upholstery of the backseat, the stain he figured would never come out. Instead, he replayed the scene from the outside. The road leading to the point where he had taken control, crashing through the guardrail. The road had swept upward, crested as the corner and begun to descend on the other side. The broken guardrail was the peak. The Viper would be there, where he would have nearly perfect visibility of the surrounding area.

Bumblebee didn't like it. He was going to a place near civilization in broad daylight. He wasn't sure why it bothered him. After all, he didn't have to worry about keeping the Autobots' secrets, nor was he in their 'territory'. Aside from which, if anyone transformed, it wouldn't be him. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. Which brought him to a very uncomfortable point.

He was severely disadvantaged. He could not transform, and could not approach by stealth. He could not even hit his top speed. Even at his present rate of travel, Bumblebee was plagued by an alarming rattle, not just of something coming loose, but something actively bouncing around under his hood. That was bad. Something had broken off, which was bad enough, but it could also become lodged somewhere, and that would be worse.

Bumblebee was not a fool. The Viper would not make mistakes. Bumblebee was not going to be coming out as the victor, no matter how ferociously he fought. A few miles of driving had cooled him down enough to realize that he needed to do what he did best.

He was a Scout. He always had been for as long as he cared to recall. It was time he acted as such.

* * *

Pit Viper had tangled the boy in seat-belts, tying him flat across the seats as he had the man from MECH days before. Out of sight behind the dark tinted windows, the boy would be invisible from the outside. But the Scout would know he was there. Pit Viper had told him as much.

Now was the time for the Scout to make a choice. He couldn't hurt Pit Viper without hurting the boy. But he also would stand little chance against Pit Viper if the boy was dropped from the equation, for then Pit Viper would be able to transform. The Scout would not.

_Come, Scout. Make your decision. Either way, you lose. But I want you to know the truth before you die. Given enough incentive, even you can forget your oath._

The Scout would come by way of the road, Pit Viper knew. The Scout was smart enough to know that he could be spotted from any direction. Might as well take the quickest and easiest path. There would be no silent approach, not in vehicle mode. And there was no cover in any direction.

The Scout would be a fool to come here, knowing that Pit Viper had his weapons and the Scout did not. But Pit Viper knew that the Scout would come here in spite of his not typically being foolish. Anger would be driving him. He had no one else to turn to, and that was Pit Viper's doing. Fury was a great motivator. But it was also a merciless killer.

The Scout appeared as predicted. The Scout was moving slowly, almost hesitantly, but Pit Viper knew that it was not caution which slowed the former Autobot. It was damage. Pit Viper had been the one to inflict it, and to partially repair it. He knew the Scout wouldn't get much farther.

He had not been deeply concerned when he lost track of the Scout. The Scout had no resources. And he was slowly bleeding out. He'd be dead by the end of the day, even without Pit Viper's "assistance", unless he replaced the energon he was still losing a drop at a time.

Pit Viper had planned for every possible scenario he could think of. He knew there were more ways for things to go wrong than he could imagine, but covering his known bases would give him the advantage. He had no intention of losing that advantage. But he had every intention of killing the Scout here and now, not waiting for his backup plan to take effect.

The Scout came to a halt at the base of the hill. A moment passed where neither one of them moved or said anything. Pit Viper had the high ground, not that it had done the Scout much good when he had it. Pit Viper waited, knowing the Scout was scanning the area.

_{Let the boy go,}_ the Scout called at last.

"Come and take him, Scout."

Pit Viper could almost feel the ripple of shock that ran through the Scout at that.

"That's right. My voice works. It always has. My imitation of you was a selling point though, wasn't it? Masked my voice, prevented the memory from being triggered. You really believed I was a figment of your imagination, didn't you? It was the voice. But I'm not like you. Irreparably damaged."

Pit Viper fell silent. He knew the right number of words were critical. Too many and he'd be monologuing. Too few and he wouldn't have the desired impact. He'd used just the right number to trigger the Scout's anger. As suspected, the Scout didn't like being referred to as 'damaged' because that's exactly how he thought of himself.

It was one thing for him to think he was broken, another for someone else to say it. Ego was a strange beast, and Pit Viper had spent a lifetime learning to harness it for personal gain.

The Scout revved his engine, and spun his wheels, kicking up smoke and dust. But he did not attempt a charge. He was not an idiot. But he was also restraining himself for the human's safety.

It would take a bit more needling to trigger him. Pit Viper knew just what to do. He'd surprised the Scout, and implied that the Scout was "less than" for his inability to speak. Now he needed to really motivate the Scout. Not only through anger, but also fact. The Scout needed a reason, more than his own burning hate. The Scout cared about others more than himself.

Pit Viper knew how to play that tune. He'd done it a thousand times before, with a hundred different Autobots. All of them inevitably broke in the way he wanted them too. They made a fatal mistake at his prompting, becoming informants or merely getting themselves killed.

"I know who left you alive, Scout," Pit Viper hissed, "It was my mistake to leave you for Megatron. You should have died at Tyger Pax, but you didn't because of a skilled medic and a rather annoying desire to live. You couldn't even stay silent as you were meant to."

_{I'll give you silent, Viper!}_ The Scout snarled, but didn't move.

It was a clumsy attempt to perform the art Pit Viper had mastered, but he appreciated the effort.

"We both know who left you alive. But do you know, Scout, who left me alive? Who it was that could have killed me? Had the chance, but passed it up? Do you know, Scout?"

_{I know Megatron failed to kill you. Seems he does that a lot, doesn't it?}_

_Foolish, Scout, _Pit Viper thought critically, _You can't provoke me using Megatron's name. I've no more love or respect for him than you do. You should have gathered that by now. Come on, Scout. You can do better than this. You're not even trying._

Aloud, he said, "I was broken, beaten, on the verge of being discovered by Decepticons and Autobots alike, who for once had the same cause, and that was to see me destroyed. All except one. I played him like the fool he was. And he let me live. Because of his decision, you lost your voice. You want to know his name? For it was his lack of good judgment that brought us here today. Without him, none of this would have happened. You would not be an outcast now. You would still have a voice to speak with."

The Scout said nothing. Pit Viper knew it was time. He knew the name would have the effect of a wreaking ball on the Scout's psyche. The Scout knew the name, had called that one his friend, had trusted him. The Scout would explode forward like he'd been shot from a cannon.

"He was a young Warrior named Cliffjumper."

At once, the yellow car's engine roared to life. The Scout launched himself uphill, his rage at once a vehement denial and proof positive that he believed Pit Viper. He was defending the honor and memory of a fallen comrade, but also he was attempting to erase Pit Viper and, in so doing, the truth as well.

Pit Viper didn't even flinch as the Scout shot past in front of him, less than an inch between them. The Scout might be in a rage, but he had not forgotten what he'd come here for. Not yet anyway.

"Is that the best you can do, Scout? Is that all you can do to defend the honor of your fallen brethren? Perhaps you do know the truth, for his memory to be worth so little to you."

Something was wrong. Pit Viper sensed it as the Scout turned towards him. That low growl hadn't come from his engine. It had come from the Scout's voice box. That noise wasn't a failure at attempting to speak. It had conveyed exactly what it intended. Pure rogue fury.

_Rogue,_ Pit Viper thought, turning the realization over in his mind, _I've made a Rogue._

He had no time to fully absorb this in all of its implications. They made themselves felt as the Scout launched his second attack. This time, the Scout didn't miss.

Pit Viper waited until the Scout had almost reached him, and then shot forward. Not fast enough, as the Scout hit his rear bumper, slamming him sideways. Pit Viper hadn't meant for that to happen. He hadn't expected the Scout to move so quickly, to turn on the attack so swiftly. But mostly, he hadn't expected the Scout to forget about his human friend so soon.

The jolt of impact made the human boy cry out, more from surprise and fear than pain, but it had the effect of stopping the Scout cold, freezing him for a split-second like a block of ice.

Pit Viper shot forward, taking full advantage of the Scout's wounded hesitation.

He slammed headlong into the Scout, shoving his adversary perilously close to the edge of the steep slope. For a second, the Scout did not even resist. And then he was resisting, and Pit Viper was startled by the strength the Scout even now possessed. When the Scout leaned his weight into Pit Viper, he stopped moving. Pit Viper's wheels churned and dug in the dirt, but he could not move the Scout.

And then he switched gears and accelerated, his front bumper against that of Pit Viper. Pit Viper hit the brakes, but the Scout inched him backwards, towards the road, making slow but deliberate progress.

"You can't hurt me," Pit Viper hissed confidently, "Kill me, and the boy dies as well."

The only response was a snarl of unbridled, fully incoherent rage. Pit Viper's confidence wavered for the first time. Maybe he had underestimated the Scout's potential for violence.

The Scout was greatly disadvantaged, but he was attempting to swing things in his favor, first by taking the boy out of the equation. He knew Pit Viper would kill the boy regardless, and so the Scout deafened himself to the screams of his friend.

"I almost forgot," Pit Viper whispered, feeling his rear tires rolling unwillingly onto the asphalt behind him, "You always were one to run away. Run from the scene of battle, leave your friends to die. But Prime didn't forget, did he? No, he remembered. You're cold as ice, Scout. Don't think, don't feel, just kill and run. That's what you were then, what you still are now. You can't be trusted, because you're something different, something less than the others. Blame it on war if you like, but your spark runs darker than most, doesn't it? Cold energon in your veins. Assassin."

The words struck the Scout like blows, and his advance became uncertain, shaky with the fury of one who believes what he's being told about himself but doesn't like it. As he spoke the final word, Pit Viper threw himself forward suddenly, and the Scout lurched back.

Pit Viper at once withdrew and, flinging the boy to the side, transformed. Pound for pound, the Scout was his superior in vehicle mode, even now. Somehow, impossibly, the Scout was still strong, still fierce, and still clear enough in his thinking to fight effectively.

"Come, Scout! Prove me wrong!" Pit Viper taunted.

The Scout did not disappoint. He launched himself at Pit Viper's chest. Pit Viper dodged, but the Scout had anticipated and had angled his leap so that he rotated slightly as he cut through the air. This slight turn brought him back in line with Pit Viper.

The Scout slammed into him like a giant brick, and Pit Viper lost his balance. He fell back, and then began to roll down the road, into the canyons, the Scout falling with him.

"Bumblebee!" the boy shouted, and started to follow for a moment before catching himself.

As they tumbled down the hill, Pit Viper wondered what the Scout's motivation was. There had to be some explanation for where he was getting his strength and energy from. Was it his hate for Pit Viper? Or maybe his love for the boy? Pit Viper needed to know, needed to shake the Scout's resolve.

As they hit the bottom, Pit Viper grabbed the Scout by the door panels and flung him bodily against the wall of the canyon. He rolled to his feet as the Scout crashed against the rocks with an angry squeal. Bouncing off the wall, the Scout landed on his tires and crouched facing Pit Viper, blocking him from going back up the hill where the boy was. No matter, the boy had no value anymore.

"You can't win, Scout," Pit Viper growled, "You can't even transform. You are nothing."

The Scout did not respond, instead emitting a piercing whistle, which echoed through the canyon like the scream of a wild animal. Pit Viper felt it vibrate his very frame. But, worse, he heard it on his radio.

The Scout was transmitting that awful noise across the radio waves so that all could hear.

Humans. Autobots. And even Decepticons. An indiscriminate SOS, meant to be attention getting, and meant to be easily tracked. The Scout was calling for aid.

"Scrap," Pit Viper growled angrily.

The Scout had just marked his location to the enemy. He had to get out, and get out fast, before anyone responded to the signal. He transformed, turned and fled down the road. The Scout pursued.


	25. Chapter 25

Pit Viper never would have believed it, and Bumblebee didn't even know it, but Pit Viper had been outmaneuvered by his own device. The same device he had carefully attached to the underside of Bumblebee's hood so that he could speak to and hear the Scout even if Bee turned his radio off.

That object had come loose, and bounced around freely for some time. As Bumblebee swung towards the Viper for the second time, he had fully intended to stop dead just a few inches shy of the Viper (exactly as Pit Viper had expected). Bluffing a second time wasn't typically to be expected. But the object rattling around loose had wedged itself in the braking mechanism.

When Bumblebee tried to stop, he couldn't. Something prevented him from doing so. He braked hard, and whatever it was made a small, but audible crunching sound and Bumblebee felt a brief flash of white-hot pain as the shards lodged in sensitive areas. But he was able to stop.

Bumblebee wasn't sure if it was physical or mental. He'd been prevented from stopping, and he wanted to believe it was an outside reason, but he wasn't sure. In retrospect, it had been a good way to remove the hostage from the equation. And to prove that he was not going to play games. This was serious.

This was worth killing over.

Bumblebee knew that this was the end of the line, because he was the one ending it. Real or imagined, memory or apparition, Bumblebee was tired of being manipulated by the Viper.

He had needed a few minutes to process and execute his plan. Breaking into both Autobot and Decepticon frequencies proved to be a lot easier than emitting the ear piercing squeal, which he hoped was a close enough approximation of a location tag device, whose function was to be easily traceable.

It was so that a location could be marked by one party, then located by another without either having directly communicated. Scouts often dropped LTDs to mark clear areas for air transports, to mark 'hot' areas for soldiers to clear, to mark the location of an objective for a following squad.

It was typically formatted so that only the Autobots (or Decepticons) could pick it up on their radio frequency. But Bumblebee wanted both. Needed both.

Known among the brand of soldier who were taught to use it as the "Suicide Signal", it was the call you prayed you never had to make, because it was sure to bring both enemies and allies down on your head. Not to mention that any Autobots who arrived on the scene were bound to meet with Decepticons as well. It was a worst case scenario type of thing, and it was exactly what Bumblebee needed now.

Bumblebee had not well and truly broken into the radio frequencies. He could neither take nor receive 'calls'. Though he had probably breached the Decepticons' radio frequency enough to make their communications officer fly into a rage.

He had only to keep up with Pit Viper long enough for Autobots or Decepticons (he didn't much care which at this point) to arrive on the scene and finish what he had started. Even if humans could hear the sound on their radios, they wouldn't know what it meant. They'd think it was just random interference.

That was fine.

Pit Viper skimmed along the road, and Bumblebee struggled to maintain the pace. Vipers were meant to be faster than 500s, and they were also meant to handle more smoothly. Cybertronian or not, Bumblebee was still subject to the limits of his design in some ways.

Pit Viper was accelerating rapidly, and Bumblebee was having great difficulty keeping up. Damage and design combined and he felt like he was shaking apart, and found himself absurdly grateful for the straightness of the road. He didn't feel he could take a turn at this speed.

"Getting tired, Scout?" Pit Viper's voice floated back, barely audible over the roar of car engines.

Bumblebee's front was about even with Pit Viper's rear tire, but he was barely holding that ground. The Viper continued to accelerate, and Bumblebee fought to match him.

Pit Viper checked his side mirror and saw the Scout still hot on his tail. It was impossible, but the Scout was holding his own. Pit Viper could see that he was on the verge of literally shaking apart. Checking his own speed, Pit Viper knew the Scout was pushing beyond his limits. He was going to burn out his engine and possibly burst his own spark just to keep Pit Viper marked.

"You realize this will kill you, even if I don't?" Pit Viper shouted, but the Scout did not respond.

The piercing whistle still came shrilly over the radio, and Pit Viper was beginning to worry at last. He knew that he had to silence the Scout once and for all. Even moving as they were, their location could be roughly calculated and a Ground Bridge could deliver soldiers to some point up ahead.

He had to stop the Scout or else lose his life.

Pit Viper transformed without applying the brakes, screeching metal sparked against the asphalt as he turned while still in motion and snatched the Scout by the front bumper. The Scout's momentum caused Pit Viper to spin even as the Autobot took to the air, and he let go, letting the Scout slam into the canyon wall in a deafening crescendo of tortured metal.

But vehicle mode did more than allow for greater traveling speed, it also protected the soft and vulnerable parts of a Cybertronian, hiding them beneath a thick metal skin. Dented and scratched, but still relatively unharmed by the impact, the Scout snarled ferally on landing, and threw himself towards Pit Viper.

Pit Viper dropped to one knee and fired a shot without taking aim first. He only wanted to stop the Scout's advance. He didn't mind if the Scout was killed or unharmed. As it happened, the shot exploded beneath the right front fender.

The Scout was flipped into the air, smoke billowing and sparks flying from the point of impact. He rolled across the road and landed upside down, squealing in pain and unrestrained fury.

The underside of the car was the fragile part. Picking the Scout up by the front, Pit Viper swung with all his strength, slamming the underside of the Scout against a boulder jutting out of the ragged cliff face which made one side of this canyon. The Scout cried out, sparks and bits of metal flew, but the whistling noise continued. Pit Viper heaved the Scout against the rock again, and again, snarling between each swing, his fear and anger mounting as the sound continued interminably.

"Why. Won't. You. _Die_?!"

Agony tore through Bumblebee, but refused to speak, or to stop transmitting. This was not the first time he had suffered more than he could endure. The secret was to resign yourself to it. The pain became a fact of existence, each impact was inevitable and inescapable. It had always been. It would always be. There was nothing he could do except for endure. And so he did.

Not for himself, but for the things he believed in. He held on for the sake of those who had lost their grip, and their lives. For those he could not save, for those who might yet live to see another sunrise. Just be silent and endure. Forever, if necessary. This was the only way to respect the fallen, defend those still online, and insure a spark of hope remained for those yet to come.

_I do this for you, Cliffjumper, and those like you. You may not have been able to wipe the slate clean, but I will do it for you because you were my teacher, my brother, and my friend._

In his head rang the words Cliffjumper had spoken those years ago. Because he still lived, he must fight. Because he still had a voice, he must speak. He knew that, when you believe in something, you have to stand for it, in whatever way might be required.

The signal must continue. Too many had suffered too much by his hand, too many had broken, too many had died. Bumblebee didn't know the full extent of what the Viper had done, or even if the Viper was a monster of his own mind, an internal demon he did not recognize and could not rid himself of, but he had learned enough to understand one simple truth: The Viper _must_ die.

If he must sacrifice his own life for that to happen, so be it.

* * *

The sound abruptly stopped. Because it had been so all-consuming, its absence made it seem as though the universe had suddenly become dead and silent. Soundwave felt his ears ringing, but heard nothing for a bit, his ears having to now adjust to the quiet which seemed suddenly oppressive.

He didn't care. Sweeping into a deep arroyo, Soundwave flew low and fast below the high points of this canyon maze. He knew the source of the sound. Even if it had stopped, it made little difference.

Banking sharply around a curve, Soundwave found a paved road rolling through the middle of the maze in a relatively straight line. He found himself nose towards a scene that took less than a second for him to absorb.

The memories of many Cybertronians seemed astonishingly short. But Soundwave never forgot a face, a name, or an enemy. Pit Viper had assumed a new shape on account of his vehicle mode and from having rebuilt himself, and a new shade and patterning of green to look more like a car belonging here on Earth, but the eyes that turned to fix on Soundwave were the same.

Soundwave either did not notice or did not care about the car Pit Viper dropped on its hood. It was of no import to him. He swept in for a landing, transforming and taking aim at his target in the same motion. Pit Viper was, for once, caught unprepared.

The sound and sight of a Ground Bridge further up the road was only the barest distraction to Soundwave and Pit Viper, who acknowledged it with a sharp twitch of his head. Nervous? Soundwave could not account for that. Even when Megatron had disowned him and torn him apart, Pit Viper had shown nothing akin to fear or nerves. As with everything that came his way, Pit Viper appeared to have expected it. Soundwave was almost unsettled by any display of nerves on the part of Pit Viper.

The motorcycle shot out of the end of the Ground Bridge, momentarily suspended in the air before crashing down to Earth and coming to a rolling stop, fluidly shifting from vehicle to robot in a single move, leveling her weapons first ahead of her, then to either side, rapidly locating and dismissing potential targets. Just a few yards away, another Ground Bridge was opened.

Soundwave stood there, and Arcee locked her sights on him as Bulkhead and Optimus exited the Ground Bridge. They stood frozen for a moment. Knockout arrived behind Soundwave, in vehicle form. He seemed to take in the situation and not like the odds.

Pit Viper took his chance. In the seconds it took the Autobots and Decepticons to absorb the rapidly changing and slightly baffling situation, he transformed and shot past Soundwave and Knockout, dodging around the Decepticon Ground Bridge.

To Arcee's left, a smoking Bumblebee in vehicle mode lay on his back, unmoving and nonreactive. To the right, the dust trail of a rapidly retreating Pit Viper.

Soundwave cocked his head at Optimus, then transformed, leaping to the sky and rocketing after Pit Viper. Knockout followed him swiftly. Arcee dropped her weapons at once and ran over to Bee, who gave no reaction to her presence, and made no voluntary sound as she pushed him over onto his tires.

"Bee!" Arcee cried, laying a gentle hand on his hood, "Bee, talk to me."

Her voice shook and then broke. She turned away, towards the retreating Decepticons, anger welling up inside. She should have done something sooner. She wasn't sure how she could have prevented this, but she felt like she was somehow responsible.

Maybe if she'd recognized the sound on the radio for what it was. But she hadn't. It had been Optimus who realized what it must be. Precious minutes had ticked away, been lost forever while Arcee had stood by and done nothing. And now...

She flinched in surprise as Bumblebee rolled back a foot, moving away from her touch. He made an awful noise doing it, his engine made a choking noise and then died. But worse, she'd felt the rippled of his being beneath the hood, shying away from her as though she were a stranger.

New anger flashed in her eyes and she looked again towards where the Decepticons were rapidly vanishing from her sight, her hands balling into fists.

"Let them go," Optimus said, seeming to read Arcee's thoughts, "Let the Decepticons take care of their own. We need to take Bumblebee home. And find Rafael."

Arcee hesitated, then exchanged a glance with Bulkhead. They both knew Optimus had directed his orders at both of them. He wanted time with Bumblebee, who had backed so that his rear bumper touched against one of the canyon walls and then stopped as though he'd had no greater purpose in life.

While they had no proof Pit Viper had taken Raf, the Autobots had suspected it. But, even if Optimus hadn't believed Raf to be in the area, he still would have sent Arcee and Bulkhead away.

They felt reluctance to leave Bumblebee, but... Optimus had given them an order. They transformed and went back up the road, driving slowly and keeping a sharp eye out for the boy as they went.

Optimus stood for a long moment, then knelt so that he might speak on Bumblebee's level. Bumblebee did not move or visibly react, but Optimus had the sense that the Scout was desperate to wedge himself further into the canyon wall, trying to disappear into it, to escape.

Small droplets of light blue were scattered about the road and verge. Optimus knew that energon belonged to Bumblebee. What words could there be to make this right? There were no words.

"Bumblebee," he began at last, slowly, "I made a grave error in my judgment of you. I saw an enemy where there was none, and issued orders before understanding the situation in full. I abused my power. And you suffered greatly for it. For that, I am sorry."

Bumblebee's engine coughed, refused to turn over. He couldn't move. But he could speak.

_{Pit Viper...}_ he began, trailing off because he had no words with which to make the report, largely because his thoughts were so tangled he didn't know truth from supposition.

"Report later," Optimus interrupted, "Rest now. Everything will be taken care of in due course."

Obediently, Bumblebee became quiet, and stopped trying to make his engine work. He allowed Optimus to pick him up as gently as was possible, and carry him to the Ground Bridge.

_'In due course'_, Optimus thought sadly, _Small consolation for one who has been wronged._


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 3 – Behold a Pale Horse**

"_The best things in life are beyond money; their price is agony and sweat and devotion... and the price demanded for the most precious of all things in life is life itself - ultimate cost for perfect value._" _-__**Starship Troopers **__(Robert A. Heinlein)_

* * *

"You could at least be the slightest bit helpful," Ratchet groused.

If Bumblebee composed a response, he did not share it.

When Optimus had brought him home the day before, Ratchet had decided that the best thing would be to do a temporary patch job to stop the bleeding and then let the Scout rest. This morning, he wasn't so sure that he'd been correct, because Bumblebee was absolutely unresponsive, just like the day before.

While he did nothing to resist Ratchet's ministrations, he also did nothing to assist. Ratchet had noticed Bumblebee was unusually quiet, but hadn't entirely absorbed the implications of that until he'd made enough repairs that Bumblebee ought to have been able to transform, which would have made repairs that much easier to perform.

But Bumblebee didn't even try. He just sat there, doing nothing, saying nothing.

Now Ratchet was picking out what basically amounted to shrapnel that had embedded itself throughout Bumblebee's engine compartment. It was cramped work for one of Ratchet's size, and would have been easier if Bumblebee had at least told him where it hurt.

And it must have hurt, Ratchet knew. But Bumblebee made no sound to indicate pain or complaint, he just sat there. Ratchet had seen soldiers withdraw before, but not typically to this degree. And never for the reason he suspected Bumblebee had.

Whether it was forgiveness or resignation that prevented Bumblebee from fleeing away from Optimus, there was no point in trying to deny that any trust he'd placed in his leader had been completely and totally shattered, along with any confidence he had about his place among the Autobots.

It was one thing for the enemy to attack you, quite another to be abused by one of your own. Only it was even worse than that, Ratchet knew. It hadn't just been one of them. It had been all of them.

Maybe Optimus shouldered the greater part of the blame, but nobody had said he was wrong. Nobody had insisted on looking for Bumblebee. There had been questions, disbelief, but not even Arcee had at first been able to confidently say that Optimus was wrong. Hell, she still hadn't said it in those words.

Ratchet yanked out another small chunk of metal. He peered closely at it, frowning. What was this? He'd found seven pieces already and still hadn't a clue what he was looking at.

He knew what it wasn't, and it wasn't any part of Bumblebee, which was a relief. But what was it? And why was it under the Scout's hood? Bumblebee couldn't have put it there, and Ratchet knew he certainly hadn't either. Which indicated that it was probably Pit Viper's plaything. A GPS tracker? Primitive human technology, but effective enough. Would Pit Viper use such a thing? Probably not.

"You probably know exactly what this is," Ratchet grumbled, glancing sidelong at the Scout, "But I forgot, we're not on speaking terms are we?" he tried to avoid it, but his voice became softer as he added, "You can't make us feel any worse about this by giving us the silent treatment. For myself, I know it's not possible for me to feel any worse, so you might as well give it up."

No reaction. Not even the the sixth sense that sometimes told you there had been a reaction beneath the surface. Ratchet wondered if Bumblebee had tuned out reality completely.

"Dammit, Bumblebee!"

Ratchet checked himself. When had he started using human euphemisms?

"What are you yelling at him for? He didn't do anything."

Ratchet looked up to see Arcee. He wondered how long she'd been standing there watching.

"That's exactly why I'm yelling at him," Ratchet grumbled, "He's being singularly unhelpful. I don't know. Maybe he enjoys having his hide used as a pincushion. Maybe I should leave him to solve his own problems if he's going to act this way."

"You don't mean that," Arcee said, crossing her arms.

"No. I don't," Ratchet admitted after a moment with a weary sigh.

"Good, because I was about to tell you where you can stick that attitude."

"You might tell Bumblebee where to shove his," Ratchet retorted.

He halfway hoped that insults would get a reaction out of Bumblebee. He knew gentleness yesterday hadn't gotten through. Maybe nothing could.

"Ratchet, that's not fair!" Arcee practically exploded, then she caught herself.

Or rather, she saw her own guilt reflected in Ratchet's eyes.

She should have taken Bumblebee's side, she should have gone looking for him, she should have... but all the should haves in the world couldn't turn back time, couldn't change what she'd done. And she'd been the worst, she was sure. Because she had not believed for a second in Bumblebee's guilt, yet she had still done absolutely nothing to defend him. _Nothing_.

He was right to sit silently in their midst, regarding them with distrust and maybe even resentment. Actually, Arcee thought it was a wonder he hadn't lit out the moment he'd gotten the chance. He had behaved as an Autobot to the last, protecting Raf in the one way he could.

And they hadn't even finished the job for him. That's why he'd called them, she knew. Not so they would find him, but so they would find Pit Viper. And she'd let Pit Viper go.

_So did Cliffjumper_, some part of her mind whispered.

Angry, she shook her head and turned away from Ratchet. She'd never know what happened, why Cliff had failed in his set task. She'd never know... there were too damn many things she'd never know. And the not knowing was always the worst of it.

She didn't ask Bumblebee what had happened. He could not tell her. Could not. Some experiences could not be shared or explained. Arcee had her share of those, and could sense this was one for Bumblebee. The question was, would he ever speak to her again at all?

* * *

Somewhere distantly, Bumblebee heard Arcee leave. He was faintly aware that it was not dark, that he was not alone. But that knowledge was only a dim light in the blackness he'd found himself in. He knew the machine noises he heard were not real. He knew he was not in a closed container. He knew he was not alone in the dark. He knew it. But was unable to pull himself from the dark.

In the dark, he heard voices. They were not real. But they would not go away.

"_The Prime took everything from you."_ the voice of Pit Viper whispered.

It had been easy to deny then. Easy to insist that Optimus had done right. Optimus was his leader, in essence his lord and master. His word was Law. Bumblebee trusted that he was not wrong. But now...

"_I made a grave error in my judgment of you."_ Optimus admitted in his quiet way.

And Raf had been put in danger as a result. Bumblebee didn't know how or why Raf had come into Pit Viper's possession. It was enough that he had. It was Bumblebee's job to protect the boy. But he hadn't been there. And Raf had been the one to suffer for it.

"_Vile, aren't they? So fragile. So pathetic. So self-centered. Think they own the world. Not a one of them realizing how frail life is, how easy it would be for them to be blown away. A sudden gust of wind... poof, all gone," _the Viper had persisted.

And he'd been let go. Again.

"_I played him like the fool he was. And he let me live. Because of his decision, you lost your voice. You want to know his name? For it was his lack of good judgment that brought us here today. Without him, none of this would have happened. You would not be an outcast now. You would still have a voice to speak with,"_ so sang the Viper.

Bumblebee had let him go. Had failed to destroy him. Even that one, simple thing was something he hadn't been able to accomplish. And now he couldn't even shut out the memory of the Viper's voice.

"_Stripped you down and sent you away to rot. Didn't even have the bearings to finish it himself. Sent you to die. Ordered you to die."_

Bumblebee trembled slightly.

* * *

"I haven't even touched it yet," Ratchet said.

He had just been explaining that this particular shard was dug in deep. Pulling it out was going to hurt. He got the feeling that Bumblebee hadn't really heard him, but elected to act as though the Scout had.

"Now take it easy, and hold still," Ratchet instructed, though the latter hadn't been a problem up to now.

As he placed a steadying hand on Bumblebee's fender, the Scout abruptly issued a warning buzz. Ratchet backed off, unsure if it had been directed at him, or even if it had been meant to be threatening.

"Now really, is that any way to act? I'm trying to help you," Ratchet growled.

The Scout snarled right back. Ratchet decided to give it a rest for now.

"Fine. I'll come back later, when you're in a more agreeable mood," Ratchet said.

He pulled Bumblebee's hood down, assuming (rightly so) that the Scout wouldn't or couldn't do it for himself. He wanted to get more energon into the kid's system, but couldn't do that until either the engine compartment was clear of debris or Bumblebee transformed.

He hoped additional lifeblood would bring the Scout around, but he didn't have much faith in it.

A second later, he heard Bulkhead drive in. Raf was with him. Raf's family had been worried about the boy, though they had no idea just how long he'd been missing. He'd left in the night, and they assumed he'd gone to school the next day, only noticing his absence at dinner because his seat at the table was empty. It was a long time to be lost without anyone noticing you were gone, Ratchet thought.

But there was no accounting for human behavior.

Miko and Jack were already hanging around somewhere. They'd been picked up from school as usual, but Raf had been driven home by his mother, then been picked up by Bulkhead later. He hadn't seen Bumblebee since being rescued from the clutches of Pit Viper.

Raf hopped to the ground and hefted his backpack on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he scurried past Ratchet and went to Bumblebee's side.

Bumblebee felt the boy's small hand on his hood. And not distantly or dimly. It sent an electric jolt through him, flinging him forcibly into reality. He wanted to flinch, to move away, but couldn't. He was held there by the boy's hand. Where he had retreated from Arcee's touch the day before, he found himself unable to do the same with the boy. He could not flee from Raf.

"I went looking for you, you know," Raf said.

His words sent a tremor through Bumblebee, though it was so slight that Raf could only feel it.

"You're always looking out for me. And I know it can't always be easy, taking care of a human. We're pretty fragile, and very different from you. I just thought... maybe it was time I looked out for you. That's what friends do. I guess I screwed that up pretty badly, huh?"

Bumblebee emitted a soft noise of understanding, that didn't quite forge itself into words.

Ratchet's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, pretending to be occupied with other work. Bumblebee had heard, and reacted. There was no question of that. The boy could get through to him.

Raf had already explained what he knew to Optimus. He'd been out hunting for Bumblebee when Pit Viper had caught him, and subsequently threatened him and brought the Scout out of hiding. Raf had deliberately left out a few details of the fight, for fear that the Autobots might send Bumblebee away again. And he didn't want it to be because of him.

Repeating what Pit Viper had said, Raf had confirmed what the Autobots had already known. The man Bumblebee had supposedly killed had already been dead. Bumblebee hadn't even known he was there. Had no way of knowing. Pit Viper had framed him.

"I told my parents I was going to stay over at Jack's house," Raf said, at last stepping back and sliding the backpack off his shoulders, "I'm not going to leave, Bee. I'm staying right here for as long as you need me."

Bumblebee said nothing, and did nothing. But there was a shift in him, Ratchet could feel it.

There was hope for the Scout yet.


	27. Chapter 27

"What now, Optimus?" Bulkhead asked.

"I believe Pit Viper will have his hands full for the foreseeable future. Understandably, Soundwave has no love for anyone who betrays Megatron, least of all one Megatron put such faith in as he did with Pit Viper."

"So we just let him go?" Arcee grumbled, "Assume he's dead?"

"We will assume nothing until we see a body for ourselves," Optimus replied curtly, "But we have limited resources. Pit Viper remained undetected for many years on Cybertron, it is clear to me that finding him will be no easy task. And we have larger concerns."

He cast a glance across the room at where Bumblebee sat. The Scout hadn't moved from where he'd been put, and had been largely unresponsive to all save Raf, who hadn't left his side all day, and seemed determined to stay put for as long as was necessary.

Though young and human, Raf seemed to have instantly recognized exactly what Bumblebee needed. Even so, his efforts to communicate with Bumblebee had so far been minimal and mostly went unrewarded (though he had succeeded in working with Bumblebee to remove the shards of what Ratchet had identified as a communication device, one Pit Viper must have built himself with materials he'd found here on Earth, which was why Ratchet hadn't recognized it at once. Its reason for being was something of a mystery, but Optimus didn't expect Bumblebee to solve it for him).

Optimus had not approached Bumblebee since placing the Scout there. He didn't think the Scout had forgiven him so much as resigned himself to the fact that he could not escape. Even if he had forgiven Optimus, Bumblebee could not be expected to trust him anymore.

It was a problem. Trust and loyalty were the basis of Autobot cooperation, and had been for many years. And too, there was confidence. Bumblebee could no longer be confident in the faith that the other Autobots would have his back. Optimus didn't know what to do about it.

If the Scout could not recover -and there was no blaming him if he couldn't- then he would be useless in the Autobot ranks, unable to function as a soldier.

Already, Optimus had come to terms with that possibility. Useless or not, Bumblebee was not to be abandoned a second time. If he left, it would be by his choice, and Optimus wouldn't blame him for it.

Optimus couldn't take back what he'd done, and knew there were no words to convey how badly he had erred, but he could avoid making the same mistake twice.

* * *

Megatron had not been pleased to find out Pit Viper was here on Earth, and was infuriated by his Decepticons' inability to catch the Rogue. And there was no mistaking it. Pit Viper might not be a mindless killer, but he was an indiscriminate one. Megatron had never fully believed in the ex-Decepticon's demise, and attributed a number of incidents on Cybertron to his former minion.

Soundwave was moderately annoyed, but hardly surprised about Pit Viper's ability to evade capture. The guy was a pro, on the level of Soundwave himself. He was not going to be run down like a stray. It was going to take concentrated effort, skill and possibly also luck (something Soundwave was disinclined to believe in) to bring him down.

And that was something they didn't have the resources for.

At least, it had seemed that way until one of their energon mines was torn apart, with every worker shot to pieces. It reminded Soundwave of an incident on Cybertron years before, which had been worth remembering solely because examination after the fact had revealed that the so-called Rogue had been set on a straight course for locations of Autobot prisoners. There had been nothing random then.

And there was nothing random now.

The attack was vicious, but not entirely pointless. It had been a raid, and whoever had done it had gotten away with no small amount of energon. Soundwave was inclined to believe the culprit to be Pit Viper, with the only other option being Starscream. Starscream didn't have the courage to fling himself at a squadron of Decepticon soldiers. Starscream would have tried to go unnoticed, and would have fled swiftly rather than engage.

Of course, there was the Autobot Scout to consider. Of him there had been no sign, and Soundwave had every reason to believe the Scout had been returned to the Autobot fold. He still wondered how the Scout had come to fall out with his brethren... but that was hardly Soundwave's concern, was it?

Megatron wanted him to find Pit Viper. Find and eliminate. Search and destroy.

Soundwave was good at that.

And he was especially good at working alone. While other Decepticons were ordered to keep an eye out for Pit Viper, and to shoot with extreme prejudice if they spotted him, Soundwave did not have any hangers on assigned to him.

That was good. He did not anticipate a chase like the one with the Scout. And, even if that did occur, it wasn't as though Knockout had been especially useful in that pursuit.

Soundwave did not intend to fail Megatron. And he did not plan to return to the Decepticons until he carried out his orders, was recalled, or died trying. And Soundwave had no plans to die, nor did Megatron give any indication that he would recall Soundwave for any reason.

* * *

"C'mon, Bumblebee. You're mad, I get that. But you're mad at the Autobots. Not us. So why don't you at least talk to us? Or Raf, anyways."

Raf had gone to call his mom and assure her that he was fine, something he'd promised to do every morning and evening while he was visiting 'Jack'. Jack and Miko had agreed to stay with Bumblebee for the few minutes that would take, though Jack couldn't imagine that it made any difference. As best he could tell, Bumblebee was lost in his own little world.

Even so, he wasn't sure that Miko's attitude was helping.

"Maybe you should go easy on him, Miko," Jack suggested.

"No," Miko retorted, "Maybe Raf thinks coddling is the right answer, but I think ol' Bee just needs a kick in the tires to get him going. Move it, Bee. Ratchet says you won't get better if you don't move around."

"Why's it such a big deal to you anyway? You never hang out with Bee," Jack pointed out.

"But Raf does," Miko replied quietly.

Jack had gained her attention and she turned to face him, leaning against Bumblebee's front bumper without even thinking. Jack decided not to point it out to her. Miko showed her true self rarely enough that he didn't want to spoil it. She seemed to be all attitude and fire, confidence and recklessness. But she had a quiet, even kind, human side too.

"You and I, Jack, we've got the whole world. We can go anywhere we want, do anything we want. Just because _you_ don't take advantage of that..." she rolled her eyes, trailed off, and then resumed, "I mean, we both know what it means to be left out, to be left alone."

It was true. Jack's mother worked, and she was the only family he had. Miko's host parents were inclined to let her go off and do her own thing. She wasn't their daughter after all. And it wasn't like Jack had many friends, he didn't have the time between school and work. Miko might have, had she been here long enough before meeting the Autobots.

"But Raf's got nobody. He's got a big family, sure, but they barely noticed when he went missing. The only one he's really got is this guy here," she rapped her knuckles against Bee's hood, "Bumblebee matters more to him than anything in this world, or any world. And the stupid bot doesn't even care!"

Still leaning, she lifted her right leg and kicked the car's bumper with her boot. Jack winced slightly. He knew she hadn't hurt Bumblebee, couldn't, not that way. But he knew that bots didn't much like being kicked by humans anyway, and that there was something especially insulting about kicking the bot who was allowing her to lean against it. But Bumblebee didn't seem to react.

Maybe he wasn't paying attention.

"I don't think that's fair, Miko," Jack found himself saying, at the same time wondering if talking about Bumblebee as if he wasn't even there wasn't just as rude as kicking him, "Bumblebee's been through a lot in the past few days. I dunno... maybe he's just... scared."

"Scared? Really, Jack? That's what you come up with?" Miko scoffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head, "The bot ain't scared, Jack. He's mad."

"If so, he's got every right to be," Jack remarked.

"Not at Raf!" Miko snapped, "Raf risked his life looking for Bee, he can't ask more than that!"

Bumblebee was only distantly aware of the human children babbling. He had the faint impression that they were talking about him, or perhaps to him. But he wasn't really listening. He didn't really hear them. He was again lost in the sea of memory, with the dark abyss threatening to swallow him whole.

Sometimes when we set ourselves a goal, we discovered when we reach it that it was not so lofty and far beyond reach as it had seemed, and we set ourselves another. But sometimes, even given all of the iron will and devotion we can muster, we are unable to obtain the objective. And, when one unwilling to ever give up is confronted with such a failure, it may well break them.

Bumblebee knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he had overreached his limits and, even in doing so, failed to accomplish his self set task. And now, all the reason and self discipline he possessed was not enough to set him free of the darkness which had sprung up around him as a result. He tried applying logic, tried to talk himself out, but there wasn't any escaping from this private Hell. He couldn't get out, even knowing what it was and why it was there.

He wasn't sure what the exchange leading up to it was, but he suddenly heard Raf's voice break through the dark, for once a harsh and discordant sound. Raf was upset. Why was he upset?

Floundering, half-drowned, Bumblebee sought to discover the answer to the question.

"Leave him alone!" Raf shouted at Miko, shoving her away from Bumblebee, an action that seemed to startle him as much as it shocked Miko because he repeated himself in a quiet, apologetic and almost tearful tone, "Just go away and leave him alone."

"Sheesh, I was only trying to help," Miko said with a brusque wave of her hand.

But, as she turned away from Raf and Bumblebee, Jack saw that she was more upset than she wanted to let on. Jack stood indecisive, realizing he'd either have to stay with Raf or go with Miko. He didn't like the choices, and so decided to go off in his own direction, away from both of his friends.

_Have I done this?_ Bumblebee wondered as he sank back into the depths of darkness inside.

But the boy's hand was reaching out to him, pulling him back as no one else could. Raf patted a hand against Bumblebee's right front fender.

"C'mon, Bee," he said gently, "It's a beautiful day outside. Let's go watch the sun go down."

Miko and Jack both stopped in their tracks on hearing the revving up of Bumblebee's engine. They turned and watched in wordless surprise as Raf led the way out of the base, Bumblebee following at his heels like a massively oversized, but nevertheless utterly passive dog.

"Looks like Raf knows best," Jack remarked.

Miko refrained from arguing with him.

* * *

Soundwave surveyed the wreckage of what had been a promising area. There had been signs of energon, but the mining operation hadn't been able to get fully underway. Scattered bodies and scrapped equipment littered the dusty ground.

Soundwave knelt down, taking note of some tire marks in the dirt. Pit Viper. Not that he'd needed the treads to confirm it. You could always feel it when a Rogue had been somewhere. He wondered again about that long ago incident. How had the soldiers mistaken the actions of an Autobot Warrior for those of a Rogue? Clever though the soldier had been, there had been a precision to the attacks, a purpose to them. And the air did not smell of chaos as it did here.

Pit Viper was becoming more unstable. Where before he had taken energon, and another time equipment, this attack seemed to have been without reason. Something had unseated whatever shreds remained of Pit Viper's sanity. Soundwave did not know what that something was, and so was not certain if it gave him an advantage or handicap in the hunt.

Soundwave clearly recalled to mind the scene when he'd found Pit Viper. The Autobot Scout had been there. Was the Scout to blame for Pit Viper's increasingly erratic behavior? What had the Scout done? Had the Scout even survived? He hadn't looked particularly lively, Soundwave recalled.

Soundwave sensed again that the Scout was important. The Scout was, for lack of a better word, the key to the mystery. The Scout knew something, must know something. Pit Viper had come a long way to get to that Scout. But why? To what possible end?

Soundwave didn't like mysteries. And he especially didn't like them when they directly threatened the Decepticon cause as this one obviously did. Soundwave needed more to go on than a few tire marks in the dirt. He needed answers. He needed a clue to Pit Viper's whereabouts and intent.

He needed... he needed the Autobot Scout.


	28. Chapter 28

Optimus was relieved to see that Bumblebee had taken to following Raf wherever he went. Though he had yet to transform and didn't speak to anyone (not even Raf), Bumblebee was at least taking interest in some portion of reality (even if it was only a very small piece of it).

It gave Optimus confidence, because he knew Bumblebee would always have place and purpose. Even if he would never be the soldier he once was, at the least he could be counted on to defend Raf. And, for his part, Raf never seemed to get tired of the Autobot's silent companionship.

Even so, Optimus wished Bumblebee would speak, and tell them what had happened, at least in part. Any information on Pit Viper could be vital. Arcee and Bulkhead had each returned from patrols to report unusual Decepticon activity.

Bulkhead had found a trashed Decepticon operation, he guessed it had been a pack of miners looking for a site. Something or someone had torn them to bits, Bulkhead reported.

Arcee had more disturbing news than that. She'd spotted Soundwave uncomfortably close to their base, flying low in a search grid pattern.

Soundwave was hunting, and not casually either. Optimus suspected that Soundwave was hunting Pit Viper rather than Autobots, but that he was doing so close to their base was unsettling news.

_Rogue._

The word was a dreaded one, but not unexpected. Optimus had suspected that, left unchecked, Pit Viper would either find a way back into the Decepticon ranks or become a Rogue. Not an outcast like Starscream now was, but a savage killer whose lust for violence overruled any desire to survive.

"Rafael, may I have a moment with Bumblebee."

Raf glared up at him, but recognized that it was not a question. Optimus had been hoping to catch Bumblebee without Raf, but the Scout followed the boy everywhere, and the boy hadn't left the base in days. Inevitably, Raf would have to go home sometime, but Optimus got the impression that Bumblebee would follow him when he did.

"Stay here, okay?" Raf addressed Bumblebee, before sliding down off the Scout's hood, "I'll be back."

Bumblebee offered no visible reaction, but Optimus could almost feel the Scout resisting the urge to follow. He wondered if he was imagining Bumblebee mentally edging away from him. He remembered too clearly that the Scout had done exactly that when they'd found him. He'd moved away until he had nowhere to go, at which point he seemed to have been defeated.

Raf and Bumblebee had been sitting in a sunny spot just outside the base. Optimus knew there was much to appreciate about Earth, most especially its mornings. While it was no Cybertron, Earth did have spectacular sunrises and gentle breezes.

Optimus sat down on a boulder near where Bumblebee was parked. He didn't quite face Bumblebee, feigning as much interest in the sky as Bumblebee appeared to have.

"Do you remember when you first came here?" Optimus didn't expect an answer, he knew Bumblebee remembered well, "Do you recall your first report?"

Bumblebee remembered. Optimus knew he did. It had been a long time ago for the humans. Not so long for the Autobots. Though Optimus thought of Bumblebee as an old friend, the fact was that, Bumblebee was a young Cybertronian. It was unlikely Bumblebee remembered a time before the war, he'd been alive for so brief a span.

But by human standards... Bumblebee's initial reports had said nothing about motorized vehicles or paved roads. In fact, Bumblebee had not encountered humanity at all in his first year on Earth. And they had not become aware of the Cybertronians until much, much later.

It was only in the last seventy years or so that the Autobots had become known to a select few in the American government. Optimus remembered a time before Agent Fowler. And a time before the agent who preceded him. But he knew, by human measures, Agent Fowler had been in charge of liaising with the Autobots for a long time. Over a decade, in fact.

"The reason soldiers and energon were sent here was because of that report," Optimus said, "The world you described was nothing like our home. The average size of the lifeforms was so small, and almost none of them had an outer shell. Everything was so fragile, bled so easily. I did not believe the Decepticons would ever suspect we would hide energon supplies on such a world."

For five Earth years, Bumblebee had scouted alone, seldom in vehicle mode because the world had not been designed with such method of transport in mind. He had struggled not to cause destruction to the plant and animal life, but both were so prolific that this proved all-but-impossible.

He had in his reports made casual references to the persistent dampness of his environment, which the humans would later inform them was humidity. Though he had kept his reports short and to the point, it had been clear to Optimus that the Scout found his circumstances on Earth to be miserable.

He had not been able to entirely conceal his feelings when he had been rained on. Bumblebee's first encounter with rain had been grim, a monsoon season near the coast. Not only had rain poured forth from the sky in what must have been terrifying quantities, the water levels of rivers and lakes had risen, flooding paths.

Cybertronians had not been as rust resistant as they were now, they'd adapted after coming to Earth. But back then, water had been a source of danger. Bumblebee did not have easy access to anything akin to rust remover. If the rain damaged him, he had no way to repair himself.

And then had come the flooding, and hurricanes.

Bumblebee's reports had taken on the tone of one who expected to die. The end of one report had stated that he wished this planet to be cast into the Pit and lost forever.

Optimus had sent orders back that Bumblebee should keep those thoughts to himself, and that his orders not to interfere with the lives of those on the planet stood. Optimus was afraid Bumblebee would not heed those orders, as it was evident the Scout was rapidly coming to despise everything around him. And he could hardly be blamed for that.

Not only was the weather constantly out to get him, and not only were the multitude of planets and animals infinitely more fragile than anything Bumblebee had ever encounter, and not only did various of those living things attempt to camp under his protective plating (he once reported that something small and furry had produced offspring in his left foot, it was later determined it had been a mouse. He had been unable to move from the spot for some time for fear of crushing the animals), but the general feeling of obliviousness in this world had to have been grating.

Animals fought for territory, for food, for mates. Theirs was a violent world indeed, harsh and cruel, without traces of forgiveness or mercy. But neither was there war. The struggle was for survival, never for power in itself. It was a world that was utterly alien.

Meanwhile, on Cybertron, medics and mechanics worked together to prepare soldiers for the journey to Earth. Those soldiers were to guard the energon, and so would need to be able to resist the harsh and varied conditions on Earth. They also needed to be psychologically capable of dealing not only with the change in environment, but also the distance that would spring up between themselves and the war.

Nobody knew that these soldiers would not survive long enough to really start missing home.

Bumblebee remembered.

He also remembered the first encounter he'd had with a human. At the time, he hadn't realized that these were the dominant lifeforms on the planet. He didn't realize that they were more like Cybertronians than any of the other creatures of Earth. He didn't immediately see that these humans were like Cybertronians of eons past.

But he did notice their courage. Or perhaps their foolishness.

He had seen humans, and noticed their settlements, but only from a distance. He'd not made it a habit to avoid them, not seeing them as any different from the other lifeforms he couldn't escape. But there was something about them that seemed... odd. He didn't enjoy being around their camps.

But one lone human had managed to catch him unawares. So small was that human, he'd noticed them no more than he would have noticed a passing deer. But they noticed him. Or part of him, anyway.

Among the trees, his upper half was not immediately visible. With the thick undergrowth, the human really only found his foot. Bumblebee was not aware of the human until he heard a tapping sound. Looking down, he noticed some kind of creature poking him with a spear.

The weapon was primitive, so primitive Bumblebee would have mistaken it for a sharpened stick if not for the sound it made. It wasn't just a stick. Something was tied onto the end of it. Something... maybe a rock? Bumblebee thought about that. He thought hard.

He listened to the baffling grunting of the creature below. And then he made a discovery. There was a particular organ in Cybertronian anatomy that had always been perceived as useless. No one could figure out its purpose. Bumblebee didn't know it, but that organ abruptly kicked in, and translated.

A shock rippled through him as he suddenly found himself able to comprehend the grunting noises. The human was shouting at him. Calling him a demon spirit, whatever that was.

Bumblebee didn't know it, but the translator was how other Cybertronians could understand him. They'd never noticed, and neither had he. They heard him differently from other Cybertronians, yet they still were able to understand him. This was much the same.

Bumblebee elected to remain motionless until the human went away. And then he left, putting more distance between himself and the human than was strictly necessary (he hadn't entirely come to terms with how small an area most things inhabited). His report was somewhat incoherent.

After all, he was trying to describe something that had never happened before. Something he didn't at all understand. But he did get his message across. There were creatures here that spoke.

He was instructed to avoid them, and he did so gladly. The encounter had unnerved him.

The report had the scientists of Cybertron in an uproar. How were they supposed to prepare soldiers for that!? A sentient alien race was not something they had planned for. How could they have? They'd never seen nor heard of such a thing before. They needed more information.

Reluctantly, Optimus changed Bumblebee's orders. The Scout was to remain hidden, but was to investigate further. To learn the habits of humanity, so that the soldiers sent to Earth in future could evade notice or, if that proved impossible, learn how to coexist.

"Do you remember what I asked you? Do you remember what you said?" Optimus asked.

Bumblebee remembered. Of course he did.

Optimus waited. Silence passed between them. Bumblebee realized he was expected to answer. He also realized that it was the longest period he'd spent out of the darkness. But he didn't reply. Instead, he let himself become lost in memories. But these were different from the ones he'd been drowning in before.

They were the ones that would lead him home...


	29. Chapter 29

_Years ago, Earth_

"I honestly can't figure how you can stand this, Scout. I dunno about you, but I signed on to fight 'Cons, not explore the universe. And I especially didn't sign on to be a test subject for the Autobot military."

The morning's rain had drenched the Autobots on arrival, and already it apparent that the rust prevention measures the Autobot scientists had developed were somewhat less effective than anticipated or desired. However, looking at the condition of the Scout, it was clear they were better than nothing. The afternoon sun rose, and it became devilishly hot and humid.

The Autobots could survive the blistering heat, but they didn't have to enjoy it. They especially didn't enjoy the effect it had on the water that had fallen earlier. The water had gotten into places they didn't even know they had, and was now attempting to boil. It stung when it came into contact with wiring. The soldiers were uncomfortable as they'd never been before.

Bumblebee elected not to respond to the Lieutenant's remark. Axle's question had been rhetorical. Aside from which, he undoubtedly knew the answer. Bumblebee endured because he had to, there was no other option open to him. Soldiers, from lowly Scout to all ranks above, were subject to their orders. They went where they were told, and did as those above them ordered.

Their reward for the risks they took on behalf of their cause was that their lives were relatively simple; the only decisions they had to make were the split-second ones that were a matter of survival. The hard decisions, where to deploy and who to deploy, what operations to sign off on and which ones to veto, those were made by those of higher designation.

Bumblebee, for his part, aspired to be nothing higher than a Warrior. Perhaps a Sergeant if he was exceedingly fortunate. But not until he went home. Not until his mission on Earth was complete. He knew already that there would be no field promotion for him, and he was satisfied with that. One should not be given honor for a job uncompleted.

"Nobody said anything about Earth scraplets," muttered a Warrior whose name Bumblebee hadn't yet learned, "I dunno what these bugs are doin', but it don't feel right."

Bumblebee again decided to say nothing. He had reported on the plethora of nesting animals in as much detail as he was able. But those reports probably hadn't been seen by these bots. They were just grunts, there were things the higher ups decided they 'didn't need to know'. Or forgot that they needed to know. It was easy to gloss over the nesting habits of organics when you were faced with the horrors of falling water, rising water, sand storms and various other things which were equally dangerous and/or painful.

The 'Earth scraplets' were mosquitoes. The Autobots had noticed that they sucked the lifeblood from other organics, though they were harmless to Cybertronians. They also loved water, it was where they laid their eggs. Bumblebee had failed to even notice them in his first year on Earth. They were so small, and there were so many other organics, the likes of which Bumblebee had never seen nor heard of.

"Let them be," Axle said unnecessarily, "They can't hurt you, your weapons or the energon we're guarding, so they're to be ignored and harmed as little as possible."

Bumblebee was relieved by the updated orders. He'd been terrified of being punished for not having avoided harming any lifeforms whatsoever. But the reality of the Earth situation had sunk into someone's consciousness. Destruction was literally unavoidable.

"We weren't meant for this," the Warrior grumbled, "Everything on this planet goes 'squish' too easily. And it's all so tiny. It's unreasonable to expect us to notice every bug we step on."

"Not all of them are bugs," one Autobot corrected him.

A scientist in the midst of Warriors. He too was a soldier, but he was in research and development more than actual fighting. Someone had decided that Bumblebee's information was inadequate. Bumblebee wasn't offended by this. He knew he was out of his depth, and appreciated that someone had noticed.

"Yeah? Then what are they?" the Warrior asked.

"Unclassified. But certainly they are nothing like insecticons or scraplets."

_{The Earth creatures have names for them,}_ Bumblebee remarked, speaking for the first time.

"Do they?" the scientist, Jax, asked thoughtfully.

"And why do you know that?" Axle asked, knowing full well that the Autobots were supposed to avoid contact with the speaking Earth creatures.

Bumblebee bristled, but held himself in check. Idiot Warriors who'd never been trained as Scouts. They didn't realize that avoiding contact meant that the target didn't see you, not that you didn't see it.

_{I was ordered to study them, and report on their habits so that you would be better prepared to avoid them. I learned a great deal from them. I think we could learn even more.}_

"Really?" Jax asked as Axle replied, "That is up to Optimus Prime, not us."

"Sir," Jax protested, "I was sent to study this world. That includes the speaking creatures."

_{They refer to themselves as 'human',}_ Bumblebee supplied helpfully.

Axle grunted, but didn't actually bother to reply.

Jax turned his back on Axle. He didn't belong to Axle's squad. Even if Axle outranked him, in the end he did not answer to the LT, whom he had decided was really quite a surly character.

Bumblebee's impression of Axle was somewhat more favorable. He was a field operative, and appreciated those of similar training and experience.

"Show me the... humans," Jax said.

Bumblebee didn't move for an extended moment. He looked to his new Lieutenant at last. He'd been a loner for a long time, far longer than he'd been on Earth. But he realized that, as a soldier, he must be bound by the laws that governed those of his ilk. It startled him that he actually _wanted_ to show Jax the humans, to explain all he'd learned to someone who could share his enthusiasm and perplexed amusement at the antics of the small, fragile, but very fierce creatures of Earth.

They were the one thing on this miserable planet that he enjoyed. They were his only reminder of the home he might never see again. But it was more than that. The humans were clever, if primitive. They made technological leaps almost every day, and didn't even seem to realize it had happened.

At a nod from Axle, Bumblebee turned and headed off, away from the canyon where the energon had landed. Axle stayed to supervise the concealment of the energon. He figured the Scout had lived here long enough on his own to take care of himself. Jax too, most likely.

* * *

"Do you realize, do you have any clue at all, any idea, any concept of what we're looking at?" the words tumbled out of Jax's mouth, and Bumblebee wondered if he was angry about something, he displayed so much enthusiasm, "Any notion or inkling?"

Bumblebee didn't respond. They were close to the human settlement, and he had little control over the volume of his voice. He wished silently that Jax would display a little more control of his own. They didn't want to be noticed by the humans, who were camped near a river.

Jax fidgeted while Bumblebee gazed at the humans, not sure what he was expected to see. He noticed several retrieving water from the river. Pieces of animals and plants made up the majority of their tools and shelters, though rocks came into play at baffling times and befuddling ways.

The concept of throwing rocks was so far back in Cybertronian history that Bumblebee had never even heard of it, and he wasn't sure what the difference between a sharpened stick and a stick with a sharpened rock attached to it was. They both made roughly the same impression on him (that is, none).

"We're seeing prehistory!" Jax exclaimed, shaking Bumblebee by the shoulder.

Bumblebee disentangled himself from his exuberant companion. He wasn't accustomed to being mauled by those on his own side. Actually, he'd grown used to being alone, and quiet. He wasn't sure how to respond to Jax, or what Jax was actually talking about.

"History was a hobby of mine," Jax told him as though he'd asked, "But it barely records weapons that aren't installed by a mechanic," he gestured to Bumblebee arm.

Beneath the armored shell lay a blaster he'd possessed for as long as he'd been in military service. He'd taken good care of his weapon, and never had to replace any part of it. He'd almost forgotten that it hadn't always been a piece of him.

"There was a time when we built weapons and had to carry them by hand."

Bumblebee followed that far. He knew that. Jax might think it a thing of the past, but Bumblebee had actually seen it before. Archaic as the concept seemed, those weapons were sometimes pretty effective, though never as much as an installed blaster or blade. The fine control and awareness of the weapon that was inherent to it being a part of you was more than a match for any separate weapon. Bumblebee's blasters were a true extension of himself.

"But I never thought... I mean, energon based weapons have been the core of our military and civilian technology for as long as recorded history. But these creatures... what did you call them?... Humans? They haven't even discovered the atom yet. And that's just basic science. Why, they've got projectile weaponry. Who ever heard of such a thing?"

Bumblebee tilted his head, taking in the various weaponry in the camp anew. Projectile weapons? What did that mean? And what significance did it have? Had Cybertronians once been like this? He couldn't see how, though part of him wanted to believe it. After all, there was a critical difference between bots and men. Humans were organic. Their world was organic. It was different. It always would be.

That was good, right?

Bumblebee shook his head. He was a soldier, not a scientist or philosopher. Jax was the expert in these matters. And if he thought that throwing sharp sticks at fleeing animals was historically significant, who was Bumblebee to argue with him?

"Projectile weapons," Jax laughed, "Of course. It's obvious, once you think about it. Naturally that would have been what came prior to blasters. I wonder if there was an intermediate step... I mean, that's a pretty huge gap to leap, technologically speaking. But sometimes big leaps happen if you have a genius at work, or a spectacular accident that leads to research. Ha, they're just like us."

Bumblebee stiffened instinctively. The last time he'd heard that, the sentence had been spoken by an Autobot who'd turned Decepticon. He'd had to shoot that bot in the spark himself.

But this was different. These were humans, not Decepticons. It was different.

Still, he looked on the humans with new wariness. They were primitive now, but one day... one day. If Jax was right, it was only a matter of time.

_Someday these creatures might be the enemy. Study them well._

He felt a tremor run through him as he filed away that information. It was a dangerous thought he'd just had. Perhaps someday it would be valid, but not now. Right now, the humans were harmless, fragile, easily crushed. Right now, he had standing orders not to harm them, nor to let harm come to them as a result of the Cybertronian war. They were not the enemy. Not now.

"I wonder, what do they intend to do with all that water they're gathering? Do you suppose they're going to attack others of their kind with it?"

Bumblebee shook his head, but said nothing. He'd been confused at first. Still was, as a matter of fact. But he had noticed that the humans would immerse themselves in the water. They drank it by the gallon. They gave it to the animals they tethered, and put it in pots with meat and plant materials which they then consumed. It seemed to be their lifeblood.

Bumblebee wondered if perhaps energon had once flowed on Cybertron like water on Earth. Had it ever rained from the sky? Had there ever been plenty for all? He wondered.

But these were idle questions. He had neither the knowledge nor the experience to answer them, to even compose a theory. Besides, Cybertron and Earth had little in common. Though if Jax was right, maybe Cybertron had once been like Earth. The Cybertron Bumblebee knew had been a dying world, and he'd had no living world to compare it to. Until now.

A shock rippled through him as a wordless thought that had been floating in his mind for weeks, or maybe months, suddenly formed itself into a single, clear idea:

_I do not want this world to die._

In that moment, he knew that he would do anything to preserve humanity. Their welfare was a concern above any he might have for Cybertron and his fellow soldiers. Cybertron was dying, and the Cybertronians would someday follow it.

Earth was still alive. Earth had a chance to survive.

That was worth every drop of energon he had.

_Am I a traitor?_ Bumblebee wondered.

He didn't feel especially treacherous. It wasn't that he didn't feel loyal to the Autobots, or that he had thoughts of abandoning the war, or that he had any love for Decepticons. None of that had changed. It was more like he'd had a list of things that made up his opinions and governed his behaviors, and suddenly there was something new there, that bumped the positioning of everything else down a notch.

Was that wrong? What if he was ordered to kill humans? What would he do then? Maybe it wouldn't come to that. But what if it did? He had to consider all the angles, all the possibilities. Just like any other mission, he had to do his best to understand the variables. The more he knew and had resolved in his mind, the faster and more effectively he could act in a heated situation.

He was Cybertronian. Something must be said about loyalty to one's own kind. He was Autobot, and there were things to be said about that as well. Allegiance was something he'd had to choose earlier in life than perhaps any other living Cybertronian. There was no middle ground by the time he'd come into existence. There were Autobots and there were Decepticons. And there was nothing left in between. The idea of a middle ground was foreign to him, he wasn't sure it was a real thing.

Could he be loyal to Autobots if they didn't show regard for human life? But that was a defining difference between Autobots and Decepticons, wasn't it? The value of individual existence. The right to one's own ideas and ideals. Though there was precious little of that in the military. But Autobots valued the lives of their fellow soldiers. Decepticons cared only for themselves. Wasn't that the difference?

The Autobots as Bumblebee knew them could not turn their backs on humanity.

Except... what if they didn't think of it that way? Bumblebee hadn't when he first arrived. He had resented all the lifeforms, and been more than a little unnerved by them. So much he didn't recognize, didn't understand. He'd more than once been tempted to blast entire tree-lines for being in the way. What if the Autobots thought of humans as something less? Something that ought to be squashed to make room for the Autobots once their planet was fully and finally dead?

_Optimus Prime would never allow it,_ Bumblebee decided, _He would die before he saw harm come to those weaker than himself. It was his orders that forbade you to destroy the things on Earth that frightened you because you didn't understand them. Trust in Optimus._

That resolution to internal conflict sounded easy. But it was easy to forget one's faith when the one they believed in was so far away that their voice could not even be heard.

But he had sworn service to Optimus Prime. He had given his word, placing all of his devotion, and his trust, in a leader he had never met at the time he became an Autobot. He had to have faith in Optimus, otherwise his word meant nothing. He had made a decision so long ago (in terms of his own lifespan), and he must now live or die with it. He had trust in Optimus to make the right call for humanity. He had to have faith in the wisdom of the last of the Primes.


	30. Chapter 30

"What in..." Jax's unfinished question was echoed by a Warrior's exclamation of "Great Cybertron!"

Bumblebee stirred from his doze. The Autobots had made it through their first week on Earth. The posted sentry hadn't even noticed the change in the air, and so stood baffled by his leader's behavior. Bumblebee looked around, and realized what the fuss was all about.

"It's like a cloud of smoke, only wet!" Jax cried, flinching away from the dampness, though it was a futile gesture as the wet was quite literally everywhere.

_{Humans call it 'fog'. It's normal,}_ Bumblebee supplied casually.

"You might have warned us," Axle snapped.

_{I did!}_ Bumblebee snarled right back.

He didn't appreciate Axle riding him like he was out of line. Could he help it if his advice went ignored? Could he help it if Axle had neither read all his reports nor absorbed the ones he had read? Was it his fault that the rust preventatives weren't working as expected?

"Do not take that tone with your commanding officer!" yelled a sergeant.

_{I'll take any tone I like!}_ Bumblebee shot back without hesitation, _{I will not be blamed for things which are _not_ my fault! And __**fog**__ is NOT my fault! I am not responsible for the weather!}_

"Calm down!" Axle broke in, "The both of you! Bumblebee, you're out of line. I've cut you slack because you've been here longer than the rest of us, which means you've suffered more and also have knowledge of the area. But I draw the line at insubordination. And Throttle, I can defend myself. Now look, we're tired, wet and miserable, but we're in this together so we should make the best of it. Our enemy is the Decepticons, not each other."

"Pardon me, sir," interrupted a young Warrior, "But the Decepticons are light-years away. It's not likely they'll ever come here, or that we'll ever get another shot at them. We're glorified security guards."

"And what purpose do you suppose security guards serve?" Axle asked pointedly, then added as an afterthought, "The Autobot military does nothing without purpose. We're here for a reason. We don't need to know exactly what it is, only that someone smarter than us decided we ought to be here."

"I, for one, relish the historical opportunities presented by this world," Jax commented.

"Here we go," Throttle rolled his eyes.

"This is a chance we never could have expected. The opportunity to see history made, to witness how things must have been on Cybertron eons before the Autobots and Decepticons were a distant idea. Imagine, seeing what the world was _before_ war."

Bumblebee flinched at the inaccuracy of the statement, but maintained his peace. Jax was the historian. Besides, Axle didn't look especially interested, and would probably silence any spirited debate that might follow from any correcting remark made by Bumblebee.

"Yeah, yeah, you love humans. We get it," Throttle spat, "But some of us ain't so keen on 'em."

Tension rippled through Bumblebee. It wasn't a threat against humanity, but it sure had the makings of one. With a twitch of his head, Bumblebee gauged how difficult it would be to take Throttle down, or maybe even out. Throttle was no easy target. He was a big bruiser, twice Bumblebee's size. But he was not slow of mind or body. Bumblebee hoped he'd never have to find out if he could take the sergeant.

"Settle," Axle growled, evidently not liking the look he saw in Bumblebee's eyes, "Scout, check out what the humans are doing. Report in at once if they look like they're heading this way. And keep an eye out for any newcomers to the area. And see if you can't find somewhere out of this water."

_{Not possible,}_ Bumblebee said, _{Fog gets everywhere, there is no escape. It should disappear in awhile, once the sun gets higher in the sky.}_

"You're talking about evaporation," Jax told him, then turned to Axle.

"Yeah, go with him," Axle waved a hand dismissively.

In truth, he was relieved. Jax came into active conflict with everyone around him, except Bumblebee. Getting him out of camp often was best for everyone. Axle just wished he had more than one Scout. Bumblebee was going to be tied to the human camp for hours with Jax tagging along.

He also didn't really trust Bumblebee. Things went on in the Scout's mind. Axle wasn't sure what the Scout was thinking, but he didn't like it when the Scout's eyes shifted and went black as they'd just done now when Bumblebee looked at Throttle.

He couldn't help thinking that was the prelude to an attack.

Rogue? Possible, but unlikely. No, the Scout was probably loyal enough. Axle had to remember the file he'd read on the Scout. The damage the Scout had suffered at Decepticon hands, and the fact that the Scout had been forced to shoot fellow soldiers who'd turned. Though there were blacked out parts of his record, Axle suspected that the Scout had been sent in specifically for that purpose. Spy work had a tendency to make on paranoid, since they were expected to find enemies where you wouldn't typically expect them to be. Soldiers had to trust their own, because that was their lifeline.

But the Scout... Axle wasn't sure the Scout had any trust in his spark.

Loyalty, yes. Trust, no.

_He'll settle. Give him time._

Time. The Scout had already had time. It was no accident he'd been sent to Earth alone. Had the intent been to mellow him out? Or was he supposed to have died out here? Reports indicated that little had been known about Earth prior to the Scout's arrival. No, he hadn't been expected to die. Even so, someone may have wanted him out, away from other soldiers.

He was certainly inclined to be sullen and mouthy. But were these signs of disdain for his fellow Autobots, or was it merely a defense mechanism against bonding with those he might have to kill or leave behind? Both were sound possibilities.

It came back to time. Only time would tell.

* * *

"You know, I think the group on this side of the river and the one on the other side don't get along too well," Jax said, "I think that other group is why our group looks a little disheveled sometimes. I think that other group raids this one at night. I'd love to see that. I wonder if Axle would let us out at night."

Bumblebee wasn't too fond of that notion. Humans were too low to the ground to hear, and you couldn't see them in the dark, they were too small. And, if there was fighting going on, their actions would be more unpredictable than usual. Avoiding contact would be virtually impossible to guarantee.

He also wasn't thrilled by Jax's use of the word 'our', as though this particular cluster of humanity belonged to them in some way. There were a lot of ways that kind of thinking could go wrong. But, as per usual, he said nothing. It was the only way to get along with Jax.

He supposed maybe he ought to try it with Axle and the others. But they were like him, soldiers. Jax kind of was, but he didn't really answer to anyone here, nor have an official rank Bumblebee understood. Scientists were a different branch from Warriors, regardless of rank.

Besides, remaining silent had its downside. What was it Cliffjumper had said? Something about respecting the fallen by speaking out for them because they could not. Or was it fighting because they couldn't? Or maybe both. Bumblebee wasn't clear on that. He'd need to think about it more.

There were a lot of things that warranted thinking about. And thinking was something he'd sort of trained himself not to do. At least, not about matters like this. Thinking was reserved for getting to the next Autobot camp, surviving the next night, getting that next piece of intel. There was neither time nor energy enough to spend contemplating all that other stuff. Besides, a certain emotional turmoil came with it, and that would get you killed.

Out there though, there was a lot of time. Thinking was something one could hardly help doing. And thinking brought with it an onslaught of painful memories. Was this right or wrong? Was that really what you thought it was at the time? What if you'd done something differently?

Regret was something as alien to Bumblebee as Earth had seemed at first.

On the front-lines, there wasn't time for regret. There was time only to react and, if you were skilled enough and also lucky, to survive as a direct result of your actions.

"I don't think our group is in very good shape," Jax commented, dragging Bumblebee's attention back to the human camp, which was downhill and about a half mile distant from their position, "Based on the amount of animal and foliage products they consume in an average day, I'd say their stores are pitiful. You said something about life shutting down for awhile periodically. How close is that?"

_{Winter. Based on previous data, I'd say about fifty-six days, give or take. Weather isn't precise.}_

"And what happens in winter? Refresh my memory."

_{Animals leave the area. Some of them disappear, but I don't think they leave. I think they hide. Plants die. The water gets so cold it freezes. Frozen water falls from the sky at times, and piles up on the ground. Humans don't seem to like it. I think cold is bad for them.}_

"So basically, if they don't have enough food stored, they'll starve? Because they need regular intake, right? They're not like us, able to hold fuel in reserves."

_{Correct. But not all the animals disappear. Some can still be found. Also, humans can migrate.}_

"But this group hasn't. They've been residents since you arrived, yes?"

_{I don't know. I only encountered them sixty-two days before you and the others arrived. But I'd never been in this area before. I started far West of this point.}_

"So maybe they're like the animals. Maybe some of them don't migrate."

_{Maybe,}_ Bumblebee conceded.

"Don't you think that's relevant? Different varieties, adapted to different locations? That's fascinating."

Bumblebee didn't respond. He sometimes had trouble viewing the humans as a group. Since he usually was only in the area of one group at a time, he tended to pick individuals out of the group.

He had seen that humans had short lifespans. He saw that the way they grew and changed was different from Cybertronians. Children, baby humans, literally came from inside other humans. The elderly became infirm and unable to move. Some groups cared for their elders, others abandoned them. But, most often, they listened attentively to the old ones, using wisdom of another's lifetime to add to their own. Like Cybertronians, but not like them.

More things to think about. More things to consider.

_{Come on. We have other areas to Scout.}_

"You go. You can come back for me."

Bumblebee looked hard at Jax. He didn't like that idea at all. But he couldn't give orders to Jax, and Axle had already given him his own. There was nothing for it.

"Don't worry. I'm perfectly safe. Go on. Shoo."

Reluctantly, Bumblebee left Jax to watch the humans alone.

It didn't feel right. But there was nothing he could do.

He had his orders.

* * *

_Cybertron_

"I don't like asking it of you, but I'm afraid I see no alternative."

"Really... Optimus, Earth? You can't be serious. I'm a medic, what do I know of organic life?"

Optimus shook his head wearily. He could not argue that point. But he also saw in Axle's report that the Autobots were ill-equipped to handle Earth. Obviously, the reports of Bumblebee hadn't been enough to go on. He did not blame the Scout, he could see from the reports that Bumblebee was attempting to describe things he had no experience with. It had been folly to think it would be enough.

"These Autobots are warriors, fighters. What do they know of medicine? Ratchet... you and I both knew this was inevitable. You're the best medic I have. While you've seen your share of combat, we both know it's not for you. You know too much to be lost now."

"And so you're sending me to this alien world we know nothing about," Ratchet huffed.

"Here, read this," Optimus handed Ratchet a report.

"What is it?" Ratchet asked, holding it like it might be toxic.

"I sent our Earth Scout a message just before the first squad left for there. I was, and still am, concerned that those sent to Earth might have difficulty adjusting. The world is so strange, and so far removed from our own and the war these soldiers are trained to fight that I fear damage to this world that is not our own. From our Scout's description, the Earth is fragile, which matches our initial intel scans. Cybertronians are far more powerful than anything the planet has to offer, and it would be all too easy to crush the speaking lifeforms the Scout discovered."

"Speaking lifeforms? What does that mean?" Ratchet wanted to know.

He had been in the field at the time the Scout was sent out, and had only just returned. He was wholly in the dark about Earth and absolutely everything to do with it.

"There are creatures on the planet that... can be understood by Cybertronians."

Ratchet cocked his head, but did not formulate a response. He didn't want to admit it, but now he was truly curious. He wanted to study that. How could a Cybertronian understand alien language? Did aliens even have language? Apparently they did.

"I gave the Scout instructions. Really it was more of a question. I asked him to defend Earth. If any of his fellow Autobots intentionally caused harm to any part of it, he was to stop them by any means necessary. I don't like giving orders of that nature, as you well know. But there is no telling how Autobots may react to having power where before they had little or none."

"Power corrupts," Ratchet muttered, now skimming the Scout's response to Optimus' orders.

"Indeed, old friend," Optimus said, "And our Scout is the only one who has been on Earth long enough to be hesitantly trusted. And too, there has been a shift in the nature of his reports. It was apparent from the first that he despised the world. But something has changed. His response exemplifies that."

"Strongly worded," Ratchet commented mildly, "Is that his habit?"

"No," Optimus replied, "Though animated in conversation, he is an Autobot of relatively few words. Actually... he no longer has words at all."

A chill ran through Ratchet. He hadn't known until precisely that moment that the Scout on Earth was the same one he had treated in the field, the same one he had failed. The Scout had lived, but Ratchet had been unable to repair him. He hadn't the skill, nor did he have the time. He'd saved the Scout's life, and then been forced to abandon him in favor of another patient. He could have done better. Should have... he shook his head. This wasn't the time for that.

"When do I leave?" he asked.

"As soon as possible."

"One question, if I may," Ratchet said, then waited for Optimus' nod of approval, "Why _this_ Scout, why this planet?"

"Like yourself, he is irreplaceable, in more ways than merely the value of the individual," Optimus replied slowly, "I believe he said it better than I."

Ratchet looked again at the report before handing it back to Optimus.

"You know, he's wrong. If he ever gave up being a soldier, he might look into writing."

"Perhaps someday we can give him that chance."

After Ratchet left, Optimus looked again at the report. Optimus had asked the Scout to kill his fellow Autobots if it became necessary, and questioned if he could do it for the sole reason of Optimus' orders, as he would be doing it to defend humanity, something which he could have no affection for or attachment to. The response was humbling. In some ways comforting, but in others, terrifying.

_'I am a soldier. I have always been a soldier._

_I will always be a soldier. I know how to be nothing else._

_You are my commanding officer, and I would serve no other._

_I go where I am sent, and it is not my place to ask why._

_By your leave, I would fight any who oppose you._

_On your orders, I kill. If it be your wish, I would die._

_I am yours to command. It can be no other way._

_I hope that answers the question.'_


	31. Chapter 31

Bumblebee felt increasingly uneasy the longer he left Jax alone. By the time he returned, he felt something akin to a panic attack. He had the horrible feeling that Jax was doing something he ought not be doing. The same sixth sense that used to tell him that Decepticons were just over the hill now told him that Jax was an unacceptable danger to humanity.

But when he returned, Jax seemed not to have moved. Bumblebee tried to conceal his misgivings, but remaining silent could only hide so much it seemed.

"What?" Jax asked, "You look like you expected a Decepticon. Something wrong?"

_{Just an attack of paranoia. Happens when you spend too much time in enemy territory.}_

"You were in Decepticon territory?" Jax wondered incredulously.

_{I'm a Scout. What do you think Scout's do?}_

He didn't expect an answer, nor did he get one. Jax frowned. It was the first time Bumblebee had done anything like snapping at him. While Jax wasn't bothered by Bumblebee showing attitude towards Axle and Throttle, he didn't appreciate having it turned on him.

He also could not fathom where the venom in Bumblebee's tone was coming from. He decided to let it drop for now, but if Bumblebee was going to act like that toward him, they were going to have a problem.

"Time to head back?" Bumblebee nodded and Jax sighed, "I'd really rather stay here. I want to see what these creatures do after dark. There's so much to learn."

Bumblebee did not say anything. He didn't trust himself to speak. The last thing you wanted to do in the face of a threat within your own camp was let on that you had misgivings. For one thing, you could be wrong. For another, tipping your hand could get you killed.

Bumblebee tried to settle his nerves on the walk back. He was being irrational. Jax hadn't done anything, wasn't likely to do anything. He was fascinated by humanity, seemed enamored with Earth at the first. If danger was coming from anywhere, it would be Axle or one of the others. They clearly hated this place and everything to do with it.

Bumblebee wondered vaguely when he'd stopped hating the world. The awareness that he had changed, not pointed out by anyone, showed a perceptiveness on his part that was beyond the norm. Most of us never realize we've changed unless it's sternly pointed out. Even then, we are reluctant to believe it.

As was typical of such thoughts, this one was fleeting. Bumblebee saw no merit in contemplating it. The relevant thing was that he _had_ changed in his feelings toward Earth. Well, that wasn't especially relevant either, truth be told. He had his orders, and feelings had nothing to do with whether or not he followed them. He'd given his word, given his trust, offered his loyalty. Feelings had no part in this.

He didn't realize it, but Bumblebee had just uncovered exactly what had him so uneasy about Jax. Jax was almost entirely run by his feelings and opinions. And that... was very dangerous.

* * *

"You guys sure you saw enough out there?" Throttle asked irritably, "Think maybe there's a shrub out there you haven't inspected yet?"

_{I do not answer to you,}_ Bumblebee spat, brushing past Throttle.

Throttle's eyes narrowed. He didn't like the Scout's attitude. And he'd heard about this Scout back on Cybertron. Loner type, strictly self reliant. Trusting no one and trusted by no one. It seemed like the chain of command was something he thought himself exempted from. That backtalk pretty much confirmed the suspicion Throttle had harbored since arrival.

"I don't know what you're so uptight about," Jax said, interrupting Throttle's line of thought, "The most dangerous thing around is that human camp and, impressive as they are to me, you'd barely feel it if they all attacked you at once. In fact, you're so thick, you probably wouldn't notice them at all. Be sure you watch your step around here. Earth creatures make an unpleasant 'squish' sound when you flatten them."

If Throttle felt distrust of Bumblebee, he felt full on loathing for Jax. But Throttle was not one to lose his composure easily. He balled his hands into fists and bore Jax's uncalled for mockery at Throttle's expense. They were just words, spoken by one who had no rank Throttle was expected to recognize or respect, they had no meaning. This Autobot had no meaning.

Bumblebee glanced back and saw that Jax was having a fine time tormenting bots bigger and stronger than he was. He regretted having responded to Throttle's baiting. Maybe Throttle's words had been inappropriate, but Bumblebee wasn't responsible for what the sergeant said, only how he responded.

He'd spent so much time training himself not to care about other Autobots, not to get close or to develop anything akin to respect for them. Any one of them could be dead inside of the day. And maybe Bumblebee would be responsible for that. At the very least, he could expect to be sent away from any battle. He was a Scout, a messenger. His job was to run.

But not anymore. He had to learn that.

_You think you're such hot stuff, why can't you adapt? Get the job done. What's so hard about that?_

He thought he had it figured out. He'd had enough time on Earth to work through a lot of stuff, but evidently he hadn't been as successful at doing away with his hostility as he'd thought. The anger was still there, and it wasn't buried all that deep. Robbed of its desired target, it surfaced when he least expected and directed itself towards those who didn't deserve it.

Alright, so there was clearly a personality clash between himself and Throttle. And himself and Jax. So what? You didn't have to like bots to work with them. They all had the same objective, right?

_But maybe we don't._

And therein lay the problem. Bumblebee's objective now was to ensure the safety of humanity from Cybertronian threats. It took precedence over any and all other concerns. The rest here... they were Autobots first, devoted to the guardianship of the energon they'd brought here.

_Isn't that important to you as well? Aren't you also an Autobot? Do the two purposes have to come into conflict? Just because you prioritize one over the other, that doesn't mean you can't support both._

Or did it?

He was so conflicted he wanted to scream, but a loud, wordless buzz was the only option available to him. He didn't notice that he'd drawn the attention of several Autobots. Deciding it wasn't their concern, most of them turned away. But one didn't. Axle saw him. And Axle knew.

Bumblebee decided then and there that he didn't much like having to weigh things like this. He was just a Scout. He didn't have the experience to know how to handle this. It wasn't fair!

He wanted to take that thought back the moment he had it. Not fair? Of course it wasn't fair. At what point had life ever been fair to anyone? When did that illusion ever present itself?

_Just calm down and think it through. It's just like any mission, pros and cons and a million different angles. But put those emotions in a box, kid. Put them away and think. Put yourself away for awhile and let the soldier you're trained to be have a go at it._

Axle saw the shift in the Scout's demeanor and shivered. It was eery. The Scout had been tormented by some thought, emotionally unstable. But now.. suddenly he had himself all collected. He moved like a thing devoid of life, and Axle wondered where all those emotions from a moment before had gone.

He knew it was a defense mechanism. One the Scout must have been through Hell to learn.

_Poor kid,_ he thought, shaking his head.

But he didn't know the Scout well enough to know how to approach him. Wasn't sure he wanted to either. There was something odd about that one. And not just because of a mangled voice box either.

But Axle had other things to think about. There were more Autobots on the way, so he'd been told. The morning's wetness had damaged the long range transmitter, which sat on a high cliff above the camp, which was situated in a defensible canyon. Someone needed to repair that transmitter ASAP.

And then there was the matter of Throttle. He was coming on a bit strong. He was used to soldiers who needed to be yanked into line. But that wasn't the tactic for the likes of the Scout. And it certainly wasn't going to go over well with Jax. Speaking of... he needed to find a way to get Jax to pipe down. If he kept baiting the others as he had been... well... there would be violence.

Axle wondered if Jax realized that the reason nobody liked him was because he was an arrogant ninny.

_Hmph, probably not._

He didn't have any way of knowing that, very soon, it wouldn't matter.

Axle did notice that Bumblebee cast a wary eye upwards towards the sky. The Scout stood for a moment, trying to figure why he felt suddenly threatened. The sixth sense his life depended on had told him something was up. But eh, maybe he was being paranoid again.

Bumblebee shrugged it off.

Axle looked up at the disconcerting blue and white of Earth's sky and wondered what the Scout was worried about. Was it going to rain? What did rain look like? How could you tell if it was going to rain? He hoped it wouldn't rain. That was the worst thing he could think of.

* * *

Bumblebee was roused in the middle of the night by the sound of brush being trampled. It took him a beat to roll into a crouch, catching himself before bringing the blaster in his right arm to bear. Doing so would make noise, and the specific kind of noise would trigger a chain reaction in the others. He needed to be sure of what he'd heard before he did something like that.

Focusing his eyes, he saw the retreating form of Jax in the dark.

_Stupid idiot!_ Bumblebee thought, without regard for the redundancy of it.

Shaking off his power-down, Bumblebee got to his feet. He wasn't sure what to do for a moment, but training kicked in, so that he acted almost without having thought about it. He was a gatherer of information. That meant following a target silently.

While it did occur to him that Jax was leaving the camp without Axle's permission, it did not occur to him to do anything about it. He was accustomed to acting alone, to watching as things happened around him. And so, he slipped after Jax, moving far more quietly than his target both because of his experience and his familiarity with his surroundings.

He knew where Jax was going, and was sure he knew why. He should have expected it. And possibly mentioned it to Axle. Hindsight and all that. He wondered if there was time to do that, but he didn't want to lose sight of Jax for some reason. Something told him not to let Jax wander unattended.

He detected something as he neared the human settlement. It took him a moment to decide what it was. Light up ahead, flickering, inconstant. Smoke smell. Fire.

Bumblebee remembered Jax's earlier comments about raiders from across the river. That was probably it. Humans, Bumblebee had noticed, were not fireproof. If that wasn't a campfire, then they might well be fleeing from it. Into the woods maybe. Towards the Autobots.

Bumblebee spotted Jax crouching down and watching the action below. Bumblebee arranged himself so as to be hidden from both Jax and the humans. If nothing happened, so much the better.

Bumblebee hoped nothing would happen. It would make him feel a lot better, to see that Jax had a measure of self control. He wanted fewer things to worry about, he wanted to be less suspicious.

_'By any means necessary'._

That's what Optimus had told him when it came to keeping humanity safe from Cybertronian threats. And Bumblebee knew what that meant. He'd gotten those orders before.

But Jax wasn't a threat. He couldn't be, he-... Bumblebee's thoughts were cut off as he saw Jax beginning to move towards the humans, leaving the trees. He was going to go into the open.

Jax was going to attack the raiders.

Reaction happened before consideration, and Bumblebee slammed sideways into Jax, knocking him down and pushing him back into cover at the same time. He didn't even think, his blaster seemed to deploy of its own accord and the end came to land against Jax's head.

Jax cried out as he fell, and then spat an epithet when he realized who had attacked him.

"What's the matter with you!?" Jax snarled.

_{Me? What's the matter with _you_? What part of 'no contact' do you not understand?!}_

"Those people are being destroyed! I can't just do nothing."

_{That's exactly what you can do. We don't know this planet, it's not ours. These are not our people, they are not our pets. They do not belong to us.}_

"But it's not right. I can protect them."

_{Who are we to decide that?}_

"We're more advanced-" Bumblebee cut him off there.

_{Our world is dead! Don't you get that? __**We**__ destroyed it. Who are we to decide what is and what is not best for another world when we've killed the only one we had!?}_

"But now we know better, we know more, we-"

_{Prime's orders are to leave them be. Now, come back to camp quietly.}_

He didn't have to say that Jax had no alternative. It was in his voice. If Jax pushed him, Bumblebee would shoot. He felt he had no choice. He had to keep Jax away from the humans.

"Optimus is not God!" Jax snapped.

_{Neither,}_ Bumblebee growled in a low voice, _{Are you.}_


	32. Chapter 32

Axle was annoyed by the ruckus that woke him; Throttle was infuriated by it.

"What's going on?!" Axle demanded in the fierce tone he usually reserved for enemies.

"This Scout is psychopathic! That's what!" Jax practically screamed, "He tried to shoot me!"

_{If I had tried to shoot you,}_ the Scout replied quietly, _{You would be dead.}_

"SEE!? See what I mean!?" Jax waved a hand at Bumblebee, who appeared guarded by passive.

"Let's start from the beginning. Bumblebee, report."

"Him!? You're going to ask him!?" Jax cried before Bumblebee could respond.

Axle ignored him, and was gratified to see Bumblebee doing the same. The Scout explained the incident and his reasons for behaving as he had. Axle didn't like it. Not one bit. He should never have paired the Scout with Jax. Jax was too volatile, Bumblebee too moody.

But he'd made that call, and though it had been a mistake, he couldn't very well take it back now.

"Jax, is what he said true? Did you try to interfere with human affairs?"

"I was trying to protect the helpless. That's what Autobots _do_."

_{You made a judgment call based off of limited intel and no experience!}_ Bumblebee shot back.

"Hey!" Axle broke in, "I didn't let him interrupt you when you were talking. So shut up."

Chastised, Bumblebee fell silent, but it was clear he was fuming. He was in an awkward position, Axle knew, but his attitude wasn't helping anything. The Scout needed to learn how to keep his temper in check, and not by just shutting himself down completely in that jarring way of his.

"Sounds to me like you're both morons," Throttle put in, glaring at Scout and scientist alike.

Bumblebee's eyes flashed, but he managed to keep his cool. Jax, on the other hand...

"And what would you know about it!? All you do is gripe about the weather! You haven't even bothered trying to look at this planet and see the things in it that are worth appreciating! The people of Earth are like us. So much so that they're going to make our mistakes someday. Unless we put a stop to it, this world is going to die just like ours has!"

"Cybertron ain't dead!" Throttle shouted.

Axle noticed Bumblebee flinch visibly and avert his gaze. The ground seemed to fall away as Axle began to put all the pieces together. He knew. He'd known all along. Cybertron was dying. The Autobots were losing. That's why energon had been sent here. That's why he and the others...

Reeling, Axle tuned out the rest of the argument between Throttle and Jax. In a moment of silence, he turned instead to Bumblebee, who also seemed disenchanted with the verbal sparring.

"Bumblebee, this is your complaint. Get up to the LDT and send a message to Cybertron. We'll let command decide how to rule on this. Throttle, you keep track of Jax. Jax, you do not leave camp."

There were groans of protest from Throttle and Jax. Looking to Bumblebee, Axle saw that the Scout had already left. Now, he needed to take a moment to absorb what he'd just realized.

Cybertron... gone? That made Earth... what? The last line of defense?

_If we lose Earth,_ he realized, _we lose everything._

No wonder the Scout was such a headcase.

* * *

Bumblebee was relieved to have been removed from the situation. When he went for Jax, some part of him had given the order to kill. Jax had been the enemy, a threat to those Bumblebee had been assigned to protect. By less than a millisecond had his life been spared.

Would it have been the right call? Bumblebee didn't know, but he didn't want to be the one to make it. Not anymore. He was tired, so very tired, of having no one he could trust. He was weary of casting and being the recipient of suspicious and wary glances. He wanted... well, it didn't matter what he wanted.

_You're one of the lucky ones_, he reminded himself, _You don't remember a time before the war. You don't even have any idea what has been lost in all of this._

Yeah, one of the lucky ones. Right. Considered inexperienced as a result of his youth, never taken seriously because he was after all only a Scout, fighting for a world he'd never seen and couldn't really believe in... yeah. One of the lucky ones. Sure.

He realized he was shaking. From what? Fear? Anger?

He didn't even know anymore. He couldn't even understand his own feelings or their origins.

Reaching the top of the cliff where the LDT sat, Bumblebee noticed that it had taken damage and didn't work. He felt momentary fury surging through him. Axle must have known about this! Bumblebee was not some constructicon! This wasn't his kind of work. It was demeaning.

He stopped himself. Where had that anger come from? What was it actually the result of? Surely he couldn't be letting himself get bent out of shape by a soaked LDT. All it needed was to dry out a little. Take it apart, dry it off, put it back together. Take maybe an hour. Not a big deal.

He calmed down and set to work, but in a few minutes he felt the anger rising up again. This should have been fixed this morning. The soldiers at camp should have checked it, and repaired it. What was the matter with them, leaving communications down like this?

Anger made him careless. Instead of carefully removing a portion of the LDT screen, he yanked it roughly. With a twang, it tore almost in two. Bumblebee swore at it. He hadn't been paying attention, so he deserved what he got. But he was still on the verge of pitching the whole works off the cliff.

He'd done without for five Earth years, sending messages via subspace and waiting months for reply. Never been a problem. What did they need this idiotic contraption for anyway!?

_What is the matter with you?!_ He snapped at himself, _Calm down. You can't let little things bother you._

A thrumming overhead caused him to look up. An Autobot ship. More soldiers? Or had the evacuation begun in earnest? Bumblebee wondered. The ship was coming in hot, the pilot probably hadn't taken Earth's peculiar atmosphere into account. Would probably line off in a... no, no it wouldn't.

Bumblebee caught sight of the craft's tail as it swept by, and he saw that it was smoking. It didn't look like the results of a firefight, more like an unfortunate encounter with an asteroid or something. Peering over the edge of the cliff, Bee saw that Axle was already mobilizing his troops.

Bumblebee felt rather detached as he watched the Autobots below scurry about. They didn't need him. And, if they did, they could always call him on the radio. Looking up, he saw a pillar of smoke rising on the other side of the hill the ship had disappeared over.

Not a long haul, they hadn't missed the landing site by much.

A shiver ran through him and he looked up, feeling as though a shadow had suddenly settled over him. But such was not the case. The sky, though dark with night, was clear.

Bumblebee shrugged and went back to work. If he'd looked up for a moment longer, he'd have seen the Decepticon warship closing on the downed Autobot cruiser. One of the single largest, bloodiest battles of Cybertron was about to take place, but Bumblebee knew nothing of that.

The only thing he knew was that it was going to be a huge pain to get the Long Distance Transmitter to dry off without the helpful evaporating effects of Earth sunlight.

* * *

"Can't you raise them?" Ratchet growled impatiently.

"I'm trying, I'm trying," Arcee shot back, "Cliff, how are we doing?"

"Little over an hour out if we burn the engines," Cliffjumper replied, "This tub will never fly again if we do that, and landing will be a real adventure."

Having been sent after the contingent of soldiers, Ratchet had been forced to take a smaller ship, with only two Autobots, a pilot and copilot. He dimly recognized them, but real memory of them was lost in a battlefield haze. He'd patched them up before probably. It didn't matter now.

As they'd neared Earth, Arcee had picked up something on scanners. A Decepticon warship. What it was doing way out here, they had no idea. But it had spotted the cruiser up ahead of them, and was moving in for the kill. It was a big ship, probably had a hundred 'Cons on board, maybe more. Not to mention the ship's own weaponry. The unprepared Autobots on the ground wouldn't stand a chance. Unless someone warned them to take cover, which should have been a matter of pressing a button and speaking clearly in the mic.

But something was wrong. They couldn't get through to the ground for some reason.

"A little over an hour and it will all be over," Ratchet observed.

"Maybe," Cliff muttered, then glanced at Arcee.

They were partners, but she was the senior. Though he didn't always bow to her authority, Cliff did always take her vote into account. He wasn't concerned with the medic.

"Punch it," Arcee said, and Cliff responded with a crisp nod while she addressed the medic, "Strap in, this is gonna be a little bumpy."

"Just get us there," Ratchet replied, surprising her with the gentleness in his voice.

She hadn't known he was capable of compassion. She'd heard about him, met him personally, and always taken him for a gruff, unforgiving and often downright hostile individual who hated people. But that, she realized, was just an act, a facade. He was defending himself in the only way he knew how.

Just as she did.

* * *

"Sir! We've got Decepticons inbound!"

Axle's head snapped around towards the lookout he'd posted. The Warrior was crouched low, weapon drawn instinctively even though the ship was beyond range and would barely have felt the sting of his best shot. Axle kept his own weapon holstered.

"They're aiming for the downed ship," Axle said to Throttle, standing next to him tensely, "Gather the soldiers, we're going to help our fellow Autobots."

"A ship that size will make scrap out of us," Throttle murmured.

"Maybe so," Axle replied, "But we can't just abandon our brothers."

Throttle took the words worse than a rebuke. Before turning to the others to carry out his leader's orders, he made a suggestion that Axle promptly tore down.

"We should send a message to Cybertron, let 'em know this place ain't so secure," Throttle said.

"LDT is down. Bumblebee's on it. No, don't call him. He's our insurance policy."

Throttle blinked. Axle had just admitted that the rest of them may be heading towards their deaths. If they called Bumblebee, he'd join their ranks and the battle. Left alone, unaware, the Scout would remain at the LDT until it was repaired. Long enough for it to be resolved one way or the other.

And, if they were all killed... well, somebody needed to be alive to get word back to Optimus Prime that Earth wasn't as safe as he imagined.

What Throttle didn't think about was how painful cruel this act was. Axle did realize it. The Scout would feel survivor's guilt something awful. But it couldn't be helped. And the file on him said he'd done it before. He was a messenger, he had to survive. It was his job. He could handle it.

"Good luck, Scout," Axle told empty air, casting an apologetic glance upward.

* * *

Bumblebee got the LDT dried out and put back together faster than he'd anticipated. Showed what a bad attitude towards work could do, he supposed, making a project seem bigger than it really was. Even the screen he'd snapped had gone back together pretty well, no permanent harm done.

Bumblebee stretched and turned the device on.

* * *

"Hey, we've got a green light," Arcee announced.

"Better 'n nothin'," Cliff said, "Bet they know they're in trouble by now, but might as well give 'em warning anyhow, just in case the 'Cons are tryin' to be sneaky."

"Right," Arcee agreed, and proceeded to send her message.

* * *

"_-say again, Decepticons inbound to your position," _the voice on the radio said.

Bumblebee swung towards where the Autobot cruiser had crashed. He saw no Decepticon ship, it had been downed by a missile from one of the Autobots below. But he didn't have to see it.

_Dammit, Bumblebee! You knew it was there! You knew, but you didn't do anything!_

He calculated the time it would take him to reach the location. Too long. A glance below showed the camp was deserted, even Jax was gone. And none of them were coming back. Bumblebee knew that too. But instinct overruled any rational thought on his part.

_{Get a message to Cybertron,}_ Bumblebee told the radio, not bothering to identify himself, _{This post is overrun. Say again, post is overrun. Inform inbound Autobots to steer clear of location. Decepticon forces have taken Earth. Say again, Decepticons have control of this planet.}_

He hated the message. Hated having said it. Having said it, he wondered if maybe, somehow, it wasn't true. But he knew it was. There were too few Autobots to take on a Decepticon warship and its crew. There weren't enough of them. They couldn't have won.

But maybe, just maybe, some of them might have survived.

Bumblebee left the LDT post, and headed towards the scene of battle. If there were survivors, he was not going to abandon them. He wasn't sure what he could do, but he had to do something. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing. Couldn't.


	33. Chapter 33

The Scout had seen the results of battle before. The sharp tang of spilled and burnt energon, smoking metal and blaster energy laced the air. Bodies scattered in various positions, shot, stabbed, ripped apart. But this, this was by far the worst Bumblebee had seen, made all the worse by his having known these Autobots. He knew their names, their personalities. Even if he didn't get along with them or particularly like them... he still knew them. They were family. It stunned him how quickly he'd bonded with these Autobots who were practically strangers to him. He'd been alone too long.

And now he was alone again.

_Stow it, Scout. Do a headcount, made sure everyone's really dead. And don't waste time. If anyone's left alive, they deserve your help. So quit wallowing in self pity and get to work._

Bumblebee forced his tremors to subside and stepped into the battlefield. The ground was ripped and torn, flora and fauna alike had been blasted to pieces in the skirmish. This area was dead. The war of Cybertron had come to Earth. Would Earth die too for this bloody war?

_Stop thinking. Just do your job._

Bumblebee tried not to think of the names to go with the faces and various body parts he found, tried to only do a headcount. He knew how many had been on the ground, knew how many had been scheduled to arrive. Just count them and move on. Don't think, don't feel, just go from one to the next.

The Autobots hadn't given up. A lot of Decepticons had been put down, and the smoking hull of the warship rose curiously at one end of the ravine in which this battle had been fought. But it had impacted hard, folding in on itself until it was just a mass of twisted metal. Nothing left to save.

_Nobody left to save._

Bumblebee shook his head fiercely. This battle was over. But the war wasn't. These Autobots were dead. But what they had lived for, fought for, and died for... it was still worth fighting for.

At least, that's what Bumblebee told himself. He'd told himself that a thousand times. But somehow, he just couldn't bring himself to believe it this time. He was tired. He might be a machine, but he was also a living being. And the living part of him had had enough.

It was time to go. There was nobody left to save, nothing left here to fight for.

Defeated without ever having even fought, Bumblebee turned to go back to the empty camp. He didn't have a reason for doing so. Nobody was there. Nobody was going to be there. He'd forgotten about the voice on the radio, and even if he had remembered he didn't know it came from a ship that was even now heading for Earth. Even if he had known, he might not have cared.

He paused momentarily on the way back, replaying the scene in his mind, noting the trampled brush and broken trees which showed clearly the Decepticons' path. Something about it was nagging at him. In a moment, he knew what it was.

Axle and the others had headed Northeast first, then angled back towards the South where the cruiser had crashed. Bumblebee had followed the same course. That was because the river and human settlements were on a direct line between the two. The river was no obstacle, they could step over it fairly readily. But the humans... the Decepticons were on a straight line between the crash site and the Autobot camp. Making sure they'd gotten every single Autobot.

Bumblebee didn't even register the fact that he'd have been killed if he hadn't realized all this, that the Decepticons would have been lying in wait for him. All he thought was that the humans were in danger.

How many 'Cons were still up and moving about? How many?

_Some Scout. Didn't even take a close look at their trail. You should have a count on them, should know if any are injured. For crying out loud, you should be able to read their personality by their footsteps. What's the matter with you!?_

It didn't matter. Not anymore. Bumblebee didn't go back and check. He stood still, pinpointing his location on the map he kept in his head, plotting the straightest course to his destination. He had to get to the river before the 'Cons. He had to cut them off before they reached the humans.

Bumblebee knew the humans were likely to try and defend themselves, defend their young, rather than flee, even in the face of something like the Decepticons. It had happened before. The one human he'd had direct contact with had attempted to drive him away. The 'Cons would kill those people.

For once, Bumblebee had no regard for the living things in his way. For so long, he'd practiced moving from place to place without disturbing plants and barely upsetting the wildlife. But it was forgotten in an instant. Speed was paramount. The fact was, Bumblebee wasn't really thinking at all.

He'd let himself fall into old habits the moment he realized he'd made a mistake. He put everything that defined him as living in a box, and let the machine take over. He couldn't afford the emotions of a moment before. If he let them take over, the humans were as good as dead.

Though the objective of a Scout was to go unnoticed, there were times when it was wholly unavoidable. And, if you found yourself in the situation of having been discovered, you were usually outnumbered. Close combat tactics needed to be fast, efficient. No messing around. Scouts were notoriously "uncivilized" when it came to battle.

A chink in the armor was an opening for a hand to reach in and grab some circuitry, vulnerable joints were the perfect place for a well place close range shot or the insertion of a blade. Optics, though desirable targets, were often deep set in the head, too protected. The spark chamber was the ideal attack point. Weak armor could be pried off, loose armor could be circumvented. Being small and lightweight, Bumblebee lacked the power to simply rip off limbs as a rule, though a proper twist at the joining point between head and body would do the job even without monstrous power behind it.

Bumblebee didn't think these things out. His mind flashed with images, memory and imagined, each clear-cut and well defined. He knew what he was going to do. And too, he knew that anger lay just beneath the cold surface. He had to keep it in check, had to push it down. Anger would make him reckless, and he would make mistakes. In this profession, you didn't get more than one of those.

And too, he knew that releasing all that anger would be the biggest mistake of all. Once the genie was released, it would never fit back in the bottle. Bumblebee knew too well how Rogues were made.

He was about thirty seconds out from his intended destination when he heard the screams, and the sound of blasters. The Decepticons were already amongst the humans. Any control he had over his rage slipped in that moment. He wanted to kill them for what they'd done. Kill them all.

* * *

Arcee appreciated Cliffjumper's rough landings better than the smooth ones. Having been partnered with him for some time now, it was her firm opinion that nobody could land a dying air- or space -craft like Cliff. It was the bad landings where you appreciated having a good pilot most.

Cliff had been serious about burning the engines, looking out the window Arcee saw billowing black smoke. But they were on the ground, and in one piece.

"What kinda whacked out radio towers are those?" Cliff wondered, gazing out the open hatchway at the trees, which looked nothing like anything he'd ever seen before.

"Terribly inefficient ones, obviously," Ratchet grunted.

They'd flattened several on landing, but it couldn't be helped. Standing in front of the downed craft, they realized there was a choice. To the left was smoke, a firefight. To the right was the Autobot camp according to the nearly illegible map they'd been given.

Cautiously, Arcee stepped from the hatchway to the ground. As a safety precaution, she took Cliff's offered hand, so that he might pull her back if the move proved dangerous. Traps could always be concealed just beneath the surface, and there was no surface stranger than this.

Once both feet were on Earth, Arcee let go of Cliff, who jumped out after her with no regard for his own safety. Frankly, he'd have preferred to go first, but Arcee had insisted way back on Cybertron that she be the first to 'hit the dirt'. Cliff knew her insistence had been for his benefit; unlike Arcee, Cliff seldom looked where he was going until he got there.

Ratchet peered disdainfully, or perhaps fearfully, at the ground below.

"C'mon, Doc. It's just like walking on a moon," Cliff said.

Ratchet flashed him a glare, "I don't like moon walking either."

Arcee wasn't going to give them much time. She'd spent a lot of time as a Scout, the instincts of one still ran in her veins. Cover, stealth, moving swiftly and silently towards an objective, these were in the training of all Autobots, but Scouts honed that raw training to perfection.

Having determined that the ground was not treacherous and the trees frankly unavoidable, Arcee set off towards the evidence of battle, disappearing into the underbrush almost at once. Cliff watched her go, knowing he was too big to move as quickly and silently as she would, and knowing also that she had the sense to wait for backup if it was necessary.

As she made her way through the brush, Arcee's senses were assaulted by a thousand unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells, all of which impressed themselves urgently upon her consciousness. She needed time to adjust to the environment. But maybe later. Maybe...

She froze at the sound of a snapped tree branch. Something large was off to the right of her planned course. Something large enough to be a Decepticon.

Arcee slid into a low crouch, tension rippling through her as she locked her eyes on movement of the branches. Slowly, very slowly, she crept in the direction of the sound, blocking all other distractions from her mind. There was only the sound, the ground she walked upon. Nothing else mattered.

A shriek of metal heralded the arrival of a body, which came flying through the trees to land near Arcee's position. A fierce snarl made her flatten to the ground as a flash of yellow shot past her to land like an insecticon upon the body of what she now recognized as a Decepticon.

At first, she couldn't make out what she was looking at. Then she realized that it was an Autobot tearing through the chest plate of the already dead Decepticon. Tearing it frantically to pieces as though there was something he desperately needed to find somewhere inside the armor plating.

The Autobot's wild eyes were nearly black, and he growled every time he encountered armor strong enough to hold against his mad assault. No, not Autobot... _Rogue_. Suddenly, he became aware of Arcee, though she wasn't sure how as she had not moved since he arrived. He looked up, around, spotted her lying motionless on the ground. She'd had no time to draw her weapons.

Her spark thudded in her chest as the other gazed upon her with almost predatory hunger. He crouched as an insecticon over its prey might, defensive and alert. If he attacked, would she have time to shoot back? No, there would only be time for hand-to-hand. He was bigger than she, stronger too. But she didn't have to win, only to hold out until Cliff arrived. And maybe this one was inexperienced. Maybe... she realized suddenly that she knew this Rogue.

"I know you," she spoke the words almost unwillingly, frightened of the reaction they might bring forth from her potential adversary, "You saved my life."

A tremor ran through the Rogue as violently as though he'd been shot. His eyes shifted, allowing their natural blue to chase away the darkness in them. He recognized her. She didn't know it, but she had said the one thing that could bring him back from the brink. The one thing that made a difference.

The Autobots were dead. The humans were dead. There was nothing and no one left. And then... she came. And she said the only thing that mattered. She was alive.

_{I couldn't save them. Any of them,}_ he whispered, then his damaged voice took on a note of hysteria as he cast a baleful glance at the Decepticon he'd killed, _{I killed them. All of them. There aren't anymore. They're all dead. All of them.}_

"There will be more," Arcee said, again speaking almost against her will.

To her surprise, the Autobot shuddered, and began to make pitiful moaning noises that didn't quite translate into anything. But she recognized the agonized sound. She'd made it before. She'd lost family to this war too. And she too had nearly gone mad from the grief. She knew what it was to be alone.

From behind the Autobot, Cliff appeared, weapon drawn in response to the unfamiliar noise. Arcee raised a hand to stay him, and he recognized Bumblebee in a moment anyway, and took in the scene.

"Aw, kid," Cliff whispered.

_{It's my fault they're dead. I knew the danger was there and I did nothing.}_

"You're just one Scout, kid," Cliff reminded him, "You couldn't have made a difference."

_{Never again,}_ the Scout snarled, his eyes darkening for a moment.

* * *

_2011, Earth_

Raf had finally gone home at the insistence of his mother who was worried about him being gone so much. There had been some expectation that Bumblebee would follow him home, but such had not been the case. The Scout had sat in his usual spot, and apparently believed Raf when he promised that he'd be back tomorrow after school. The Scout hadn't made a sound in hours.

Arcee almost thought they were under attack when his engine abruptly roared to life. The Scout launched himself from his place, turned sharply and rocketed from the base, nearly sideswiping Bulkhead on his reckless way out.

Bulkhead exchanged a concerned glance with Arcee, who in turn looked to Optimus.

"Follow him," Optimus said, "I made the mistake of abandoning our Scout once. Never again."

Realization had dawned on Bumblebee, and it had struck with every bit as much force as Arcee's words of years before. Struck home like a savage blow, awakening him from the endless sleep of indifference, a splash of ice cold water on a hot day.

Pit Viper had stalked Raf before capturing him. Pit Viper might know where Raf lived. The possibility was enough to spur Bumblebee into action. Last time he had taken on Pit Viper, he had failed miserably. He had barely escaped with his life. This time, he had no intention of escaping.

Either Pit Viper would die, or he would. There would be no middle ground this time.

He didn't realize Optimus and the others were trailing him. He'd left so fast he hadn't seen them react, and his top speed was beyond what even Arcee might manage. And he was pushing his limits. He now recalled to mind the vague words he'd heard over the past several days.

Soundwave was in the area. Soundwave was hunting Pit Viper. He needed to find Soundwave.

Never before and never again would he deign to hunt the silent Decepticon, knowing as he did that doing such a thing was very much akin to suicide. Soundwave was a ferocious fighter, and did not tolerate the existence of those who managed to track him down. To hunt Soundwave was to hunt Death itself. Bumblebee knew that. But Death, as it happened, was exactly what he was looking for.

Not for himself, but for another. If his death was required, so be it.

He remembered what Bulkhead had reported. It hadn't meant anything then, but it did now. Mining operations. Energon. Pit Viper was there. Why was he there? Rogue? He was not so foolish. No, Pit Viper was a creature of immense self possession. No. He was playing a game. Or... _or hunting_.

The pieces fell into place at last.

_Never again._


	34. Chapter 34

_2011, Earth_

Soundwave regarded the approaching Scout impassively. There was much to admire about this Autobot, if no other. His courage could not be doubted, but that wasn't in play here. The Autobot had seen Soundwave, and knew that Soundwave had seen him. He approached without fear. It did not take courage to do something if you were not afraid.

They were much alike, Soundwave knew. Though the Scout was not silent by choice, he was every bit as devoted to Optimus Prime as Soundwave was to Megatron. That silent devotion superseded all else.

Soundwave had been there when the Scout was tortured. He had watched as the Scout was first bravely defiant, then resignedly silent. He was young, and believed in his own immortality. But that arrogance had slowly been chipped away, until the understanding was in his eyes. He was going to die. And, if he did not speak, he would suffer much in the process. In such a situation, one is often willing to do anything to make the pain end. Death ceases to be frightening, and instead becomes something to long for, to lust after, because with its arrival comes the cessation of the torment. But the Scout had maintained his silence to the end. That was loyalty, and Soundwave respected it when he saw it.

In future encounters, the Scout was different from before. Still reckless, but for a different reason. He was now personally acquainted with death, and he did not fear it. That made him nearly Soundwave's equal. There was little greater fear among Cybertronians, Soundwave knew, than the fear of death. Those who did not have it were often suicidal or Rogue. If one could banish the fear, yet maintain a firm grip upon sanity, there was no limitation on what one could accomplish.

Bumblebee drove directly towards Soundwave, clearly confident that the Decepticon would not attack. He was quite correct. For the moment, Bumblebee was not his concern. In fact, he had intention of using the Scout to further his own task, which had been set before him by Megatron.

The Scout did not transform, instead staying in its abhorrent vehicle form, engine idling instead of shutting off. For a long moment, the two old enemies regarded each other, neither moving nor speaking. A lifetime of conflict played through their minds, though the Scout figured in far fewer of Soundwave's memories than the communications officer did in Bumblebee's.

Soundwave had been there at the beginning. Doubtless, he would be there at the end. He was too valuable to risk in routine combat, and too wise to be slain by a chance shot from the other side. But the Scout too, had earned his place at the finale, however far away it might be. He had taken more risks in his short life than Soundwave ever would, and survived everything.

An almost preternatural sense bade the two soldiers to stay their attacks. Now was neither the time nor the place for their conflict. They had a common enemy, and both understood that the threat to their respective masters could not be overestimated. It was an alliance that it was doubtful anyone would understand or accept, made without words and sealed in silence.

_{I will find the Viper. And you will help me kill him.}_

Soundwave inclined his head slightly. The deal was struck. Once concluded, they would go their separate ways and, when next they met, it would be on the field of battle. There would be no formation of a bond between them. Each already respected the other, and it could go no farther. Their loyalty prevented it. They belonged, body and spark, to the masters they served. It could not be otherwise.

* * *

Optimus stayed his Autobots, and they watched from concealment as Bumblebee and Soundwave interacted. Or rather, did not interact. What was said, if anything, could not be heard from a distance.

"What's he think he's doin'?" Bulkhead wondered aloud.

"I can think of but one objective that would lead our Scout to the Decepticon's second in command."

"Pit Viper," Arcee spat the name as an epithet and began to rise from her crouch, "Let's give him a hand. I don't trust his partner."

"No," the single word from Optimus stopped her, "Revealing our presence at this time would only serve as a distraction. And a threat to Soundwave. We will follow, but intervene only if it should become necessary. This is something that Bumblebee must finish."

He did not add that, for the moment anyway, Bumblebee was probably safer than he had ever been before. Soundwave was a fierce protector and, for the time being, his protection extended to Bumblebee. No harm would come to the Scout so long as he was working with Soundwave. Of that, Optimus was certain. Fighting Soundwave was nontrivial to begin with. Fighting Soundwave when the Decepticon warrior had something to defend was suicide.

From a distance, they watched as Bumblebee finally transformed for the first time since Pit Viper had attacked him. This was done without ceremony, as though it had little significance to Bumblebee. Arcee was surprised to feel relief welling up in her chest. She realized she had not been certain until this moment that Bumblebee really _could_ transform. And then she felt a pang of resentment that it took her a moment to understand. He had shared the moment with a Decepticon and not the Autobots. It was a small thing, but Arcee felt irrational jealousy that she then had to stamp down.

And then she felt regret. Why would he have shared it with them? They had betrayed him, left him to die. Why should he do anything for them? Surely he did not still think of them as his friends. Not after they had failed to support him so completely.

Arcee shook off her thoughts and watched as the Scout did what he did best.

This was the abandoned mining site Bulkhead had reported. The bodies largely lay where they had fallen. Decepticons had little interest in the fate of their dead as a rule. That meant the scene was mostly undisturbed. This allowed Bumblebee to investigate it more effectively.

He knelt to examine the ground, looking at tracks and scuffs in the dirt, quickly analyzing their nature and putting together the entire episode that had taken place here. Even from far away it was clear from his expression that he knew what had happened just as surely as if he'd been there.

Soundwave looked on, standing behind Bumblebee. Arcee resisted the impulse to fire on the Decepticon that loomed over her comrade like a praying mantis over a smaller insect.

* * *

_{He was here, yes. But not alone,} _Bumblebee said, looking over his shoulder at Soundwave.

Soundwave cocked his head, but of course said nothing. Bumblebee didn't expect him to. He wouldn't have minded if the Decepticon had moved back a tad. He didn't much like bots looking over his shoulder while he read the evidence of violence on the ground. It was a bit like having someone read over your shoulder. Disconcerting and distracting.

_{This mark here. Very distinctive. There's only one Cybertronian alive that makes a mark like that,} _Bumblebee paused for a beat, then decided to say it, _{Starscream.}_

Soundwave displayed no reaction. Bumblebee didn't expect him to. That sort of thing was beneath the Decepticon. But there was a subtle shift in his demeanor, something not visible with the naked optic, but there nonetheless. Soundwave had put the puzzle together all at once, as Bumblebee had.

_{This isn't a Rogue we're hunting. He may want Decepticons and Autobots alike dead, but he has not lost his faculties. He's hunting. Hunting for the one who betrayed him.}_

Soundwave turned his head sharply, looking Bumblebee full in the face for the first time. He evidently hadn't realized how much Bumblebee knew. Bumblebee felt a twinge of satisfaction at that. A good Scout always knows more than anyone realizes, more than anyone thinks is possible. He knows the answers to questions that nobody would ever think to ask of him.

And Bumblebee knew that Pit Viper had been branded a traitor by one among the Decepticon ranks. Knowing from stories he'd gathered over the years that Pit Viper was very likely loyal to Megatron meant that the one who routed him would have to be especially underhanded and ambitious, someone who had much to gain from the Viper's disgrace. It had taken no logical leap to see who it must be.

Soundwave's reaction had just confirmed it.

_{Cybertronians run on energon, and Starscream is no exception. Pit Viper knows this. Chances are, he's tracking Starscream even now. Each time Scream goes for energon, Pit Viper attacks. Pit Viper likes driving his prey into exhaustion, then closing to finish the job. I believe the Earth term for that is 'nasty son of a bitch', but don't quote me on that.}_

Soundwave was humorless, or at least outwardly so. Bumblebee drove the point home.

_{You're failing in the hunt because you don't understand the prey you're hunting.}_

It was true. In the search for evidence, information or soldiers, one had to have some understanding of not only the terrain and danger in the area, but also a basic concept of what they were searching for. Only then would they know where, when and how to find it. A good Scout did not happen across Decepticon patrols by accident. There wasn't enough time in the world for enough accidents like that. The good Scout knew the Decepticons were there already, and seeing them was merely the confirmation of what he already knew to be the case.

If Soundwave was offended, he offered no sign of it. Bumblebee suspected the soldier was too intelligent to be offended when a truth was pointed out to him, even if it did not put his performance in a favorable light. Simply put, for all of his vast experience and technical skill, Soundwave was not a Scout. He was a tactician, certainly. But that was a different line of work.

The wisest of Cybertronians realized that they were not and could not be perfectly suited to all lines of work. These Cybertronians became leaders, because they could not only recognize and accept their own weaknesses, but see the strengths of others. These cunning individuals knew what needed to be done, and who was best for the job. Soundwave, though a servant of Megatron, was one such individual. If it were not so, he would have attacked Bumblebee on sight rather than forming a truce.

Bumblebee wondered, not for the first time, what it would take to bring Soundwave down. He knew that turning the Decepticon was a frank impossibility. He knew Soundwave had a weakness in Laserbeak, but that was not enough. Threatening Laserbeak could only carry you so far. It would not secure a surrender from Soundwave. And the death of Laserbeak was sure to spark off a vengeful attack the likes of which neither Autobots nor Decepticons had ever seen.

So easily could Soundwave become like Pit Viper. On the other hand, Bumblebee knew that he himself was not all that far off from it either. Thirst for revenge ate you up inside, turning pacifists into cold blooded killers and driving reasonable bots to murder. You had to get your head on straight in this war, or else it would eat you alive until there was nothing left.

Love and belief had to be your primary motivators, not hate. Bumblebee had tasted of hatred, and knew that to allow it to guide him would only destroy him. He might not be able to put hate away for good, it was too much a part of him. But it must not be allowed control of his actions.

Even Decepticons knew that. Their craving for power, their vanity and pride were their main drives. And those were destructive enough as it was, Bumblebee knew.

Letting the thoughts wash over him had a cleansing effect on Bumblebee. It kept him oddly focused on the task at hand. While he thought, he looked upwards, though he knew there was nothing to see.

Starscream could fly. And would fly. His first instinct was to take to the air. It was his advantage, and he was far stronger at air combat than ground. He was a coward, but not an idiot. Well... not a complete one anyway. He had his moments of brilliance.

Soundwave followed Bumblebee's gaze speculatively. Yes, Starscream could fly. But what of it? To the best of his knowledge, Pit Viper had lost that capability when he fell out of Megatron's favor. Among other things, Megatron had ripped off his wings and torn out his flight engine. When Pit Viper had rebuilt himself, he appeared to be confined to the ground.

Bumblebee had the same thought. Starscream would be faster, and had more range of movement. So how would Pit Viper go about tracking him exactly?

_The same way you have,_ came the swift answer.

A thousand times Bumblebee had followed Decepticon air patrols. He knew how it was done. And how it was done was by having foreknowledge of their intended destination. Could Pit Viper predict Starscream's movements? If so, how effectively? Was he depending on Starscream's need for energon in order to find him? Tracking Decepticon mining operations would be a lot easier. More bodies, and they would have little need for stealth, their numbers were sufficient to forestall any attack.

That was it, wasn't it?

Follow the Decepticons, and you locate the energon. Locate the energon, and you find Starscream. Find Starscream... _and you will have Pit Viper._

Bumblebee transformed into vehicle mode without warning or regard for Soundwave, and took off. He left the dirt for the paved road, and a look in the rear view mirror said that Soundwave was following. Even at his top speed, Bumblebee was going agonizingly slowly for a flying Decepticon. But Soundwave stayed right with him.

Either he hadn't figured it out... or he wasn't confident in his ability to take on Pit Viper by himself.

* * *

"We're going to lose them," Arcee cried, staring dejectedly at the fast retreating forms of Bumblebee and Soundwave, "We'll never catch up."

"Not so," Optimus corrected her, "Bumblebee's life signal and GPS tracker are both online. We do not have to maintain visual contact in order to track him."

"He could shut those off again," Arcee pointed out.

"He has not done so up to now. I find it unlikely that he will do so in future without provocation."

"Think he's figured out where Pit Viper is?" Bulkhead asked.

"More likely, Bumblebee knows where Pit Viper will be," Optimus replied.

It was a fine distinction. But knowing where your target was wasn't half so valuable as knowing where it was going to be when you reached it. It was what made the difference between success and failure.


	35. Chapter 35

Soundwave recognized the place before their destination was fully in view. An energon mine that the Decepticons had been driven off of years before. The Autobots had, for once, been the ones on the offensive. And they had been truly ferocious in their attack, Soundwave recalled. He knew why now.

The paved road the Scout ran on said it all. The mine was close to humans. Or, to be more accurate, close to where humans were going to be. The Decepticons wanted to remain hidden as much as the Autobots for reasons which were their own. But the Autobots worked with humans, and that gave them the advantage of knowing where civilization was going to be spreading to.

There were rows of houses less than a mile from the road, Soundwave could see them off to his right. This was much too close to risk transforming. A single human, or perhaps a handful, could be done away with and no one would be the wiser, but an entire neighborhood equipped with phone service and internet was a risk Soundwave was not willing to take.

Left to his own devices, he would not have chosen to engage here. The Scout seemed to have no such qualms. Soundwave had to wonder why. Autobots were overly sentimental about humanity.

Soundwave dropped lower in his flight path, hanging in perfect view of the Scout's mirror. Once sure the Scout had acknowledged his new position, Soundwave deployed the newly repaired Laserbeak into the hot desert air and banked to the right, in front of Bumblebee's path.

The Scout turned with him, and then stopped. Soundwave did not have that option, and climbed higher to circle around while Laserbeak headed into the hills up ahead, which neatly concealed the energon deposit. If Pit Viper was there, Laserbeak would find him. And then they could track him to a more agreeable location for a fight. He hoped the Scout understood that.

The yellow muscle car gunned its engine with apparent impatience, but remained at the side of the road. Glancing down, Soundwave realized he'd misread that. Another car was coming up the road. The Scout was giving him warning to behave as a true Earth military drone would.

A white convertible with the top down sped along the road, the driver and single passenger were clearly enjoying each other more than the sights. This road led away from town.

Soundwave wasn't thrilled by that. He'd figured Pit Viper would head that way. And he knew the Scout would attempt to tear him apart if he endangered those humans even in passing. And he was not so arrogant as to think he could take the Scout _and_ Pit Viper. Pit Viper would see the opportunity. Soundwave knew he'd have to be careful, or else his unlikely partner would be the death of him.

It had occurred to him to wonder why the Scout was out here alone. He ought to have had all the other Autobots right behind him on this. But there had been a recent falling out between the Scout and his master. Perhaps he was proving his loyalty. Autobot politics were incomprehensible and primitive, their military structure had always been lacking. Their soldiers thought too much and obeyed too little.

The convertible had barely disappeared from view when there came the sound of blaster fire. Bright blue-white energy shot skyward from behind the concealing mass of reddish hills.

Soundwave didn't wait. Coming sharply about, he flew towards the site at top speed, engine screaming over the sound of the wind. Laserbeak was under attack. Soundwave registered in some part of his mind that the Autobot had been just as quick to respond. But he could not travel as quickly. Besides which, the car had to maneuver around the hills. Soundwave went straight up and over.

But the direct route proved to be his downfall. A white streak shot up from the ground and clipped his left wing. The contact was momentary, the white hot flash of pain blinding. But it was the aftereffects that really did it. Soundwave spun in the air, helplessly in the thrall of physical forces beyond his control. The wind kicked in and he proved to be too close to the ground to recover.

Soundwave plummeted towards the ground, half upside down. He had no choice but to transform, or else crash and burn. Even that landing wasn't graceful. A great cloud of dust hissed into the air as he skidded along the ground, dirt and grit pinged off his metal surface and screwed with his scanners.

Even as he fought to regain control, he knew what had happened. He'd been hit by Starscream, who had taken the opportunity to flee the scene when Laserbeak entered the picture. Doubtless, Pit Viper had shot at Laserbeak, and Starscream had made his exit. He hadn't intended to hit Soundwave, it was probable that he was in as much trouble as Soundwave now. Midair collisions were highly dangerous for all concerned, and were avoided even in fierce combat.

There was still blaster fire sounding off, flickers of light cut through the dust. Then came the sound of transformation, the roar of a car engine. Pit Viper was retreating towards the road. The squeal of brakes and snarl of a second, more powerful engine told of the Scout's arrival and subsequent departure in hot pursuit of the escaping prey.

Soundwave rose to his feet and stepped carefully from the dust cloud, cautiously shaking grit from his more sensitive bits. Laserbeak flew towards him at once, but the flight was limping, he was badly damaged. Again. Soundwave flushed with anger. Pit Viper would pay for that.

He accepted the return of Laserbeak like a falconer receives his bird, and then took stock of the damage to himself. In a moment, he knew his flight speed had been cut drastically, and he'd have a hard time staying airborne. On the ground he would be just as effective as ever, but he could not do much in view of the chase which had just begun. However, he could follow along and make sure the job got done.

That decided, he took to the air, ignoring the sparks on his wing that resulted.

* * *

Bumblebee saw the Viper coming and took a hard right. His timing was nearly perfect. His front bumper came into metal squealing contact with the Viper's back half, the impact nearly flipping the other vehicle. But the Viper managed to right himself at the sacrifice of a line of bright green paint that he left behind on the front of his attacker.

The Viper then hit the gas, and Bumblebee settled into pursuit. This time, there was no energon leak. This time, there was no doubt. This time, there was no damage. This time, Bumblebee had time on his side. And, if Pit Viper stopped to press the issue, Soundwave was bound to be on top of him in a moment. He had to run, but there was nowhere for him to go.

Bumblebee's mind went to an old Earth fable Raf had told him about. He'd found all but the moral very confusing. It had to do with beasts and birds and a bat that claimed to be both and neither and the animals were going to war but then mysteriously decided not to for reasons Raf could not adequately explain. But the moral was this: He that is neither one thing nor the other has no friends.

And Pit Viper had no friends and therefore no safe harbor.

Bumblebee would be relentless in his pursuit this time, knowing that to let Pit Viper go would be to risk Raf's life. And he knew Soundwave would be equally determined, for whatever reasons he had. Perhaps not this moment, nor even this day, but sooner or later, Pit Viper would have to stop.

Luck, if it had ever been real, would not be enough to save him.

Bumblebee spotted something up ahead, but it took him a moment to realize what it was. And what it meant. The convertible that had passed by, and they were coming up on it fast.

Pit Viper clipped the left rear fender of the vehicle as he went past and it spun out, the driver instantly panicking and overcompensating. The convertible turned lengthwise, blocking the road. If Bumblebee had not anticipated this, he would have hit the other vehicle broadside, possibly killing its occupants on impact. He was going fast enough.

But he turned sharply, his left tires coming off the road entirely, the right ones struggling to drag him through the soft sand. He edged around the convertible, but he'd had to slow down, and Pit Viper had widened the lead. Bumblebee knew that ground could not be made up. Pit Viper was too fast.

With a roar of his engine, he took off in pursuit, angry that he'd let Pit Viper get ahead.

In the rear view, he caught a brief glimpse of Soundwave, who broke off to the left suddenly. Bumblebee knew why. He knew this road, had patrolled here often. The road took a left around the hills. Bumblebee and Pit Viper had to follow it, but Soundwave could cut across and maybe put an end to the chase portion of this battle. That would be a relief.

Except that they were still far closer to town than Bumblebee was comfortable with. There'd already been blaster fire, but a single shot or sound could be explained away as thunder or lightning on a sunny day. A prolonged battle could not be so easily covered up.

Pit Viper would have the advantage. He had nothing to lose by firing his weapon. Soundwave and Bumblebee would have to be more careful of their shots, both that they not be visible from town and that they leave no telling scorch marks on the ground.

_You let yourself get too confident. That'll get you killed someday._

Pit Viper took the corner like a pro, losing almost no speed at all in the turn and accelerating almost at once to regain any ground he lost. Bumblebee looked back one last time before taking the turn himself. The convertible hadn't moved. And it probably wouldn't follow them in any case.

Bumblebee swung around the corner and saw that Pit Viper had already covered almost half a mile. But he would get no further as Soundwave fell like a stone from the sky onto him. Soundwave hit the left side of the car, whose tires squealed as the impact jolted it sideways. Pit Viper fought to right himself for a moment, and then transformed and completed the spin entangled with Soundwave.

Bumblebee had never seen Soundwave engage in such direct combat, and with good reason. Soundwave simply wasn't built for brawling. A well placed kick could snap one of his delicate blade arms. He was an expert fighter yes, but up close confrontations were hazardous, and he typically preferred to remain at arm's length. But Soundwave didn't have to win. He only had to stop Pit Viper's forward progress.

As Bumblebee rushed in, Soundwave kicked free of his adversary and took to the sky. Pit Viper started to get to his feet, but Bumblebee took a leap at him. By the time he came into physical contact, he had completed the transformation from vehicle mode, but still had the momentum to drive the Viper back to the ground.

The close combat was vicious. Pit Viper was not a boxer. In fact, he was a lot more like a lion. His fingers were sharp, and he was quick to apply them to vulnerable spots. More than once he went for the optics, but Bumblebee managed to evade, if only barely. He emitted a disorienting wailing noise that wrecked havoc on Bumblebee's sense of balance. And then he got an opening to transform. His right arm went back and returned as a blaster.

Bumblebee was forced to release him in order to evade that. Even so, the shot left the door above and behind his left shoulder a bit on the crispy side. It was then that Soundwave rejoined the attack.

Bumblebee lunged sideways as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, but recognized it was one of Soundwave's tentacles. It didn't make him feel any better as the tentacle snaked its way towards Pit Viper. Soundwave flatly ignored Bumblebee, who used the moment to get his breath.

Soundwave was an effective combatant and now the fight was on terms favorable to him. Bumblebee stood back as the tentacles closed around Pit Viper, who saw the first one and shot it, but failed to recognize the second, which caught him by the leg and flung him sideways.

Bumblebee realized too late that Soundwave had miscalculated. As he hit the ground, Pit Viper fired a shot, using the tentacle as a sight, guiding his shot straight towards the Decepticon warrior. Soundwave released him and dodged, but that bought Pit Viper the time he needed to transform and run again.

Once again, Bumblebee was forced to pursue.

Soundwave started to follow, but cast a glance at his damaged wing. The wound had been widened in the skirmish, and now energon dripped freely from it. Soundwave watched the Scout go. But this time... he did not follow.


	36. Chapter 36

Arcee was so startled when she came around the corner of the road and saw Soundwave standing on the shoulder that she unleashed a curse before correcting herself and warning those that followed.

"Con!" she veered and came to a firm stop, eying her potential opponent.

Soundwave stood and gazed at her with his dispassionate blank face, motionless as though he were a carved statue rather than a living thing. It took less than two seconds for Bulkhead to lunge around the corner, blasters drawn and ready to offer Arcee covering fire so that she might transform as well. He pulled up short when Soundwave failed to react, staring at him with cold indifference. Autobot to the last, Bulkhead could not bring himself to fire on someone who had no weapon drawn.

Optimus was the last around the corner, and was probably least taken aback by Soundwave's apparent disinclination to attack. He didn't know when Soundwave had become aware of the Autobots, but it was clear the Decepticon had anticipated their arrival.

What puzzled him was why Soundwave had broken off what had clearly been a hot pursuit. Bumblebee's tracker said he was going a high rate of speed some distance down the road.

Then he understood.

Soundwave's injury was not fatal, so long as he didn't fly. If he ignited his burner, it would almost certainly catch the energon dripping from his arm/wing. Soundwave had no intention of going out in a burst of flame. He couldn't pursue except on the ground, at a speed that would be laughable at best.

The Decepticon slowly raised his arm and pointed down the road, urging the Autobots to follow their comrade and finish what he had started. Optimus didn't need a second invitation.

* * *

Up to now, Soundwave had been the one to inflict the most damage. Bumblebee had only hounded the quarry. But now there was no sign of the Decepticon. Bumblebee had to assume Soundwave had abandoned the chase, though he couldn't begin to fathom why. Soundwave was not a fool or a coward, and those were the only two reasons Bumblebee could think of for breaking off from the chase.

Anyway, Soundwave's reasons didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Bumblebee was now on his own. Even so, he could tell that Pit Viper was a little worse for wear. Bumblebee had a few dents and scratches (had he been in robot form, the claw marks would have been clear near the top of his head where Pit Viper had attempted to damage his optics and render him incapable of pursuit), but his injuries were superficial and easily ignored for the moment.

Pit Viper had sprung a leak.

Bumblebee was going fast, but not as fast as he could. He didn't have to. He could follow the 'blood trail' until Pit Viper turned at bay for the final confrontation. The only question was whether Pit Viper would flee until he was exhausted or stop while he was still able to fight back.

Bumblebee knew it didn't matter either way. He would not make the mistakes of those who had gone before. Pit Viper had proven that he would rise again if he was not destroyed, becoming more dangerous as his hate and bitterness expanded to fill all corners of his mind.

A Decepticon and an Autobot had left him alive, but Pit Viper recognized no debt to either. But it was not the sides of the Cybertronian conflict that concerned Bumblebee. It was humanity. Most specifically, the single human whom he had been assigned to guard and defend with his life, whose safety he must ensure even above the welfare of his fellow Autobots.

Pit Viper was a threat to that human life. The threat _must_ be eliminated.

To Bumblebee, Pit Viper was no longer alive. He was neither Decepticon nor Autobot, nor even Cybertronian. He was simply a thing to be brought down and torn to shreds. Even robots were not immune to the dynamics of predator and prey. It was another transformation of sorts.

* * *

The chase continued into the night. Under cover of darkness, Pit Viper attempted to slip away, leaving the road in favor of the desert beyond. But Bumblebee was quick to realize he couldn't hear a car engine up ahead anymore, and swiftly backtracked. It was not difficult to find the trail.

Pit Viper had not yet learned how to cover his tracks in Earth's soil. Such tracking was seldom effective on Cybertron, it was only rarely that anyone left footprints. But Bumblebee had been on Earth a long time, and there was no mistaking the footprint of a Cybertronian for anything else.

The back of his mind told him to remember and cover these tracks later, so that humans wouldn't see them. But for now he resumed the hunt, long habit forcing him to slow down and pick where he stepped. If it was not possible to leave no evidence of his passing, at least he concealed any suggestion that it was a robot several stories high which had passed this way.

The rising of the moon, as well as his own luminous optics, ensured that Bumblebee could see well. Even so, there were deep shadows among the myriad undefined shapes of the desert. Pit Viper headed for a distant range of cliffs, which would provide ideal cover from view, and shelter from blaster fire.

Bumblebee knew Pit Viper would have himself positioned long before he was overtaken. Caution would be prudent, as would circling to the other side, coming in from the North instead of the South from the road, as Pit Viper would no doubt anticipate.

The hunt had taken a dangerous turn. Having lost sight of his quarry, Bumblebee had to rely solely on his ability to predict the actions of Pit Viper. Bumblebee was a good Scout, yes. But Pit Viper was the master at manipulation. He knew just what to do and say, how and when. Compared with him, Bumblebee's attempts at prediction were feeble and amateurish.

Working with a partner, albeit a hated one, had been his biggest advantage. But Soundwave was gone. For whatever reason, he had abandoned Bumblebee to finish this alone. But he had not, Bumblebee realized, left without doing his fair share of the work.

Splashes of bright blue stood out like beacons in the desert night, betraying not only Pit Viper's path, but also his condition. Soundwave's attack had struck home, and the wound (or wounds?) he had inflicted was deep, leaving Pit Viper weakened and in pain.

It was the same weakness Pit Viper preyed upon. But now it had been turned against him.

Bumblebee was a little surprised at his own lack of pity. He knew what it was to be injured, alone, hunted. He didn't realize it, but it was precisely because of this that he was unable to summon sympathy for Pit Viper. Pit Viper preyed upon the weak like a leech, using death and pain and torment to secure his hold on those who were unable to fight back. Pit Viper knowingly took advantage of the mental and physical anguish of others and, in the end, he destroyed them. He had exploited the limited and questionable mercy of Megatron, and followed that by taking advantage of Cliffjumper's sense of compassion, only gifting guilt in return.

A monster by any definition, who reveled in wickedness and cruelty. But his luck had run out with Bumblebee, who knew him too well to feel anything but disgust. He felt no hatred this point, not really, merely revulsion. Bumblebee reserved his hate for Megatron. Pit Viper was merely a despicable thing, a twisted monstrosity in robot form, a disease that must be wiped out.

Bumblebee had been wise to circle the rock formation, but he then proceeded to do something unwise. Because there were so many shadows and rocky outcrops and cliff ledges, there was much he could not see. And so he began to search the area in a grid pattern. A pattern he had been trained to follow. A pattern which could be predicted. And Pit Viper had allowed for the fact that Bumblebee might attempt to come at him from behind, and so cast frequent glances Northward.

Pit Viper saw Bumblebee approach, and turned towards the Scout, positioning himself so that a large boulder concealed him from view. And then he lay in wait for the Scout to turn the corner.

It was unfortunate that the Scout was close enough to hear if he transformed and brought a weapon to bear. His only advantage at this point was surprise, the same advantage the Scout was seeking.

Both of them were exhausted, and wanted only for this to be over one way or another.

And so, when the Scout turned the corner, Pit Viper wasted no time in tackling him. He was surprised to find the Scout was strong, agile and quick to react. The advantage gained proved minimal as the Scout thrashed violently before he even knew for sure what had hit him.

Pit Viper emitted the same noise as before, a disorienting sound. Bumblebee, damaged voice and all, was capable of matching it. The racket could be heard for miles, and it was fortunate they were miles beyond any city or town or even a farmhouse. If anyone had heard it, they might have remarked that it sounded like two cats fighting. The response to this would have been that they were the biggest damn cats in the whole world, if they really were cats at all.

Tangled in one another, the combatants each sought to tear the other apart by any means, kicking, clawing, grappling, shoving. Pit Viper raked clawed fingers across Bumblebee's chest, slicing almost through the armor plating as the Scout retaliated by snagging an unprotected circuit at his adversary's shoulder joint. Sparks flew from both, and each was forced to go on the defensive and and therefore halt the attack, only to regroup in a split-second and resume as ferociously as before.

For the most part, they managed to deflect one another's blows. Any landed attack was prone to be fatal, and both of them knew it. That was the difference between amateurs and professionals. One successful strike was all it took. The deflected attacks produced dents and scratches, but nothing worse than surface damage. Anything that struck home would effectively end the fight.

Had they been less than evenly matched, the fight would have been over in seconds. Even if they had been less exhausted, it would have been over more quickly. But they were both tired, their thoughts were unclear and their reactions sluggish. Even so, they were both deadly. And both were going for the kill. There would be no more games between them. Death for one or both was assured.

* * *

Arcee heard the distant sounds of the fight first. She had the lead, largely because she was more maneuverable than Bulkhead or Optimus in vehicle form, and therefore the most likely to survive should she run into trouble while on point.

"What on Cybertron..." she stopped to listen, baffled by the sounds she was hearing.

In a moment, she recognized the voice of Bumblebee, and assumed the other must be Pit Viper. It sounded like somebody was being tortured to death. The sound spurred her to hop off the road and drive into the desert, careful to stick to the hard packed sand in order to prevent her wheels from getting stuck. She was favoring speed over caution.

Optimus and Bulkhead followed. With the screams and snarls floating through the air, they could arrive almost as noisily as they pleased and probably go unnoticed.

As they drew nearer, Optimus felt something like reluctance. It puzzled him at first, but he figured it out fairly quickly. He knew what must be done, but he didn't want to witness it. If Pit Viper were disabled and then killed, he didn't want anybody to see Bumblebee do it. More for the Scout's sake than anything. Though it had to be done, Optimus knew it might feel like murder.

He knew why Cliffjumper had been unable to pull the trigger when he had the chance. There was a certain validity to the Decepticon claim that Autobots were soft.

And then, quite suddenly... silence.

Optimus looked ahead, but his headlights were met with solid rock. Without cuing the others, he transformed and drew his blaster. Bulkhead and Arcee followed suit, and fell into a tighter formation around him, edging in front of him on either side. He halfway resented their protection, but knew it was by training and preference. He was their leader, and they would die before they saw him fall. It was a matter of practicality as much as anything else. Leadership was valuable and hard to replace.

As they neared the bend, they were able to hear Pit Viper's mocking voice.

"Go ahead, Scout. Do it. Become the killer you know yourself to be. Do the world a favor."

Soon the scene was in full view. Bumblebee had the upper hand, having pinned Pit Viper on his back and applied the muzzle of a blaster to his forehead. But something had stayed the Scout.

Was it internal conflict? Was it the silver tongue of Pit Viper? What stopped him?

Optimus and the others froze where they were. Neither Bumblebee nor Pit Viper seemed to notice their presence, instead keeping their eyes locked on each other.

It was clear that Pit Viper knew he was beaten. But he was attempting one last trick, trying to twist one last mind to his sick will. But Bumblebee, as it turned out, was having none of it.

"Kill a helpless being! Do it, Scout! Or are you a coward!?" Pit Viper snarled.

Bumblebee's answer was quiet, but his voice was clear.

_{I am a soldier,}_ he said simply, _{I do not answer to you.}_

Raising his head, he looked across at Optimus. Pit Viper looked too, seeming startled and, for the first time, truly afraid. Bumblebee had already made his choice. He had made the choice long ago. And, despite everything, that decision had not changed.

Yes, he remembered the report to which Optimus had referred days before. And he stood by it.

"End this," Optimus said.

* * *

_I go where I am sent, it is not my place to ask why._

_By your leave, I would fight any who oppose you._

_If it be your wish, I would die._

_On your orders, I kill._

_I am a soldier, an Autobot._

_It can be no other way._


	37. Epilogue

_**Author's Note: Thank you all for reading (and reviewing), I hope you liked it, and I hope you enjoy the epilogue. Thank you and goodnight everybody.**_

* * *

After effecting temporary repairs, Soundwave followed the trail left by the wounded quarry to the kill site. Blackened earth and spatters of energon littered the scene of the fight, but the winner could not be doubted. What was most remarkable was, in a way, the kill shot.

A single shot, straight through to the spark.

Soundwave had expected something more brutal, or perhaps a second or third shot ostensibly to 'make sure' but really to vent fury. But this was cold, almost devoid of emotion. It got the job done, nothing more. The body had been left where it had fallen, the Scout appeared to have lost all interest the moment the act was done. The others had left little trace of their presence, but Soundwave made out their tracks nonetheless. They had left the way they'd come, and it did not appear that they had intervened in any way. Cold. That was the only way to describe it.

Soundwave would have expected this emotionless and decisive action of a Decepticon. But not an Autobot. They were notoriously sentimental and ruled by feelings. But not, it seemed, in this instance. This scene did not even hint at anger, much less pity.

Soundwave documented the body, and then left, his mission complete. He filed the events away in his memory like so many thousands of others, a mere footnote in the continuing conflict between Autobots and Decepticons. Never to be forgotten, or revisited.

So far as he was concerned, it simply was. And that was the end of it.

Such was the legacy of Pit Viper, who had, at the last, been defeated by one who was beyond his control. It had been inevitable, Soundwave thought. The only surprising thing was that it had taken so long. It was too bad that he did not extend this thought to himself or the Decepticon cause.

As with so many, Soundwave was blind to things in himself which were obvious to him in others.

* * *

Optimus looked up as Bumblebee drove into the base. Ratchet had patched him up, but there were still places that could use a little paint. Bumblebee had picked up Raf after school, as though recent events simply hadn't happened at all, as though everything was the same as it had always been.

It was strange to see such a powerful being behave in such a gentle manner towards a human, incredibly that something so big could have such tender regard for something so small.

But the shift from killer to companion was not so dramatic as it might seem, Optimus knew. Bumblebee's action of yesterday and early this morning were perfectly in line with the activity he was presently engaged in. Being a guardian was a complex affair, which required patience and understanding, but also the ability to engage sudden, savage violence, then return to benign companion. To be a truly effective guardian, one had to be both brutal and compassionate, prepared always for violence, but ever tolerant and devoted to the one whom they guarded.

Optimus didn't know it, but what he thought of as a guardian was something else to humanity. For most intents and purposes, Bumblebee was not unlike a parent. It was never malice that drove his actions, but always the love for and devotion to his nearly helpless charge.

But it was even more complex than that. It was obvious that Raf needed Bumblebee as a protector and friend. Less apparent was that Bumblebee had come to need Raf just as much as the boy needed him.

With Cybertron dead, the Autobots had no home to return to or defend. They needed a reason to go on, to keep fighting for the forces of good. Humanity was that reason. It was their lifeline.

Optimus wondered that he should have forgotten that, even for a moment.

He had let himself drown in the complexities of the war and its history, rather than looking at the simple truth which had been right in front of him every day for as long as he had been on Earth. But because it was there every day, he had grown numb to it, allowed it to slip from his conscious thoughts. It had taken the graphic display of the early morning hours this day to remind him of it.

Bumblebee was an Autobot. Not because anyone had forced him to be one. It wasn't training or force that had done it. It was as simple as the beat of a spark. Bumblebee was an Autobot because he believed. He believed in good. He believed in freedom. He believed in humanity, and his fellow Autobots. And, above all, he believed in Optimus.

It was shocking how easy it was to forget. But the truly terrifying thing was how close Optimus had come to throwing that away. And Bumblebee would have let him, because the Scout believed.

"I'm glad your feeling better, Bee," Raf said, giving the car an affectionate pat on the side mirror.

_{There was something I needed to do,}_ Bumblebee replied quietly, _{Something I was afraid to do.}_

"But you did it, right?" Raf asked, not seeking any elaboration.

_{Yes. It's done now. And everything is okay.}_

"That's good," Raf said.

A silence passed between them because nothing really needed to be said. Raf was young enough that terror was fleeting. He had not forgotten the harrowing experience of being kidnapped, but he did not feel like he was in danger. He did not know that Pit Viper was dead. But he had the faith of a child, and that faith told him that Bumblebee would never allow Pit Viper to hurt him again. No matter what. Because he was not an adult, Raf was able to accept it on faith alone, without proof or explanation, that Bumblebee could and would protect him from all harm.

Bumblebee knew that it would take time for the vague sense of unease to go away. It would take time to put back in place the faith in his leader. It would take time for him to regain his confidence in the presence of humans, his trust in himself. But there would be time. In time, he knew that all of it would just be a bad memory, a distant one at that. He knew also that he could choose to let himself be shaken by events, by the words Pit Viper had said to him. He could make that choice. But he didn't.

Instead, he accorded Pit Viper the respect he deserved as a worthy adversary, as well as the disdain he had earned for being the monster that he was. He decided that to over think matters would only be harmful. Instead, he must try and follow the example of Raf.

Sometimes thinking wasn't the answer, sometimes logic just wouldn't do it. Sometimes you had to just have blind faith in something, step out without looking ahead. There were times to have courage, times to be clever, times to be reckless, and times to be patient. And also, there were times to simply accept without understanding or reading between the lines.

Things happened. People lived and died, and the universe didn't change all that much as a result.

In the end, the only thing Bumblebee could do was decide how he would choose to greet events which were beyond his control. He couldn't make the war stop, couldn't end it all by himself. He couldn't make Megatron good. He couldn't stop people from hating, or from being cruel to one another. He couldn't prevent tyrants from seeking to obtain more power than was their right. He couldn't even always see right and wrong, black and white, through the shades of gray.

"Want to go for a drive?" Raf asked.

_{Always.}_


End file.
